Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Brenden’s gone. I’m stunned, not sure what to think, as I look around the kitchen.
No sign of him at all, like he’s a ghost.
“Shit, shit, shit,” I whisper to myself, fetching a dry towel to clean myself the best I can. The staff girl from earlier is sympathetic and directs me toward a fan. I stand in front of it until the spot dries enough that I don’t look like I’m incontinent.
All the while I roll what he said around in my head.
Brenden gave me the lighter… which means he broke into my house…
And was in my room while I was sleeping.
He’s insane. That’s the most invasive, psychotic thing I’ve ever heard. Who does something like that?!
I’m buzzing with energy, head still pounding, when I go back to join the party. Riley finds me and seems concerned. “You disappeared for a while. Are you okay? I’ve been trying to find Brenden too.”
“Don’t worry, we already had a chat.”
“Really?” She seems delighted. “I figured he ditched us.”
“I think he did, but I ran into him first.”
“That’s great. Are you two getting along?”
No. Not at all. Not remotely.
“Good enough,” I say with a sigh.
CHAPTER 6
BRENDEN
“Riley, what the hell are we doing here?” I stand outside a nice townhouse in the Fed Hill neighborhood. A big, fat, FOR SALE sign is plastered out front.
My sister bustles up to the lock box, enters the code, extracts a key, and lets herself in the front. “Touring!”
“I don’t need to—“ But she’s already gone.
I groan and look over my shoulder. I could get in my car and drive home. She probably wouldn’t even notice for a few minutes. But if I did that, I’d never hear the end of it, and honestly it’s easier to go inside and figure out what this is all about.
Even if I’d rather throw myself off the roof.
“Spacious,” Riley says, her voice echoing from the back of the house. “Roomy. Light. Great bones.”
“It’s a town house, Riles.” I run my fingers along the wall leaving dark smudges. The floors are hardwood, recently refinished, and I’m pretty sure the trim is all original. I find my sister with her head shoved in a cabinet at the back of a nicely updated kitchen. “Why are we in a house right now?”
“Because you’re getting married.” Her voice is muffled. She pulls herself out with a satisfied nod. “Good bones.”
“Riles.”
“It’s a nice yard in the back. Three bedrooms, so room to expand. Two and a half baths. Very good area of the city, close to all the good stuff. She’ll love walking around the paths in the nearby park and the schools are actually decent. Though I bet you’ll send the kids to private.”
“Kids?”
“Master bedroom’s big and there’s a brand new roof deck. Two zones on the AC, which is a big plus, and a little garage with enough room for a single car. An absolute luxury, if you ask me. Price isn’t bad either.”
“Riles!”
She spins around, frowning like I’m the one being absurd. “What?!”
“Why are you showing me a house?”
“Because right now you live in the most horrific bachelor pad I’ve ever seen. Your current place looks like Ikea and American Psycho had a baby. You can’t bring your wife back there.”
“My apartment is fine.”
“Maybe for the two of you, but for kids?” She wags a finger in the air and gestures for me to follow. “Come on, let’s look at the nursery.”
“There aren’t any kids!” But she’s already gone. I lean against the refrigerator, a high-end model, and close my eyes. A headache threatens the back of my eyes. I wonder if this is how Tallie felt a few days ago at the party when she smacked her skull on the doorframe.
How the hell am I here right now? An airy, three bedroom, two-and-a-half bathroom house? With space to build a family? What the hell is a half bathroom anyway?!
This isn’t me. None of this makes sense. I rub my temple, trying to work out the stress. Screams echo through my mind. The smell of smoke and pain, so much fucking pain. I shake my head to dispel the memories, but they’re always lurking. My failures.
I wasn’t supposed to take that job in Vegas. I was warned against it, but I went ahead anyway. Unsanctioned, they called it, and therefore on me if shit went south.
Which it absolutely did.
Deep fucking south.
I drag myself up the steps after Riley. Listening to her play realtor is better than stewing on my past and replaying events I can’t change. She shows me the bathroom, the bedrooms, even pretends like she’s holding a crying baby. I do my best not to blow my brains out.
“I already sent an offer to the seller,” she says casually when we’re finished and she’s locking up. “It’s ten percent under asking and I think you’ll get it. The market’s not as hot anymore—“