Total pages in book: 180
Estimated words: 182075 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 182075 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
“I’m Indie, what’s your name?”
“Hi, Indie. I’m Billy Moray.”
Something shifted in the air. She wasn’t quite sure what it was . . . it kind of felt like an omen.
A warning of bad things to come.
Unfortunately, she ignored it.
Something she’d come to deeply regret.
2
Twenty months later
Indie snuck into the apartment.
Please don’t let him be home.
It was late Friday afternoon and Billy didn’t usually get home until late in the evening.
“Well, I wondered when you would get home.”
She froze in the living room as his voice washed over her. Fear struck her hard.
They’d moved into an apartment together a couple of months ago and there were just some . . . teething issues. That was all.
“Where have you been, Indie? Have you been with them?” He stood up from the sofa and turned to face her.
Indie winced. She knew who he was talking about.
Slade, Spencer, Quaid, and Rock.
For some reason, Billy hated them. Thankfully, they were so busy lately that they hadn’t noticed how tense and uncomfortable her relationship with Billy had become.
She didn’t get to see them much anymore. She hadn’t even been to Club Slade since she’d moved in with Billy two months ago because it upset him.
Everything upset him.
She wished she could talk to Maggie about it. But Maggie was busy working for her uncle. They traveled a lot and Maggie couldn’t always talk for long when she did call.
“Well? Where have you been? Have you been to that fucking perverted club again?” he yelled, his face turning red.
“The club? Of c-course not.” Bollocks. She was stuttering. He hated when she did that.
The thing was, she only did it around him.
“Are you lying to me, Indie?” He strode toward her and she backed up against the wall of the living room.
Suddenly, Billy smashed his fist into the wall by her head making her flinch in fear. She slid down the wall, trembling.
What was happening right now?
Take a breath.
Keep calm. Don’t rile him up.
What had she ever seen in Billy? She wished she’d never met him.
Then she wouldn’t be stuck in this nightmare.
Not that it had always been this way. No, he’d been charming in the beginning of their relationship. They’d started as friends before they’d begun dating.
He’d taken things slow. He’d been so gentle and sweet. Although, there had been signs, things she’d brushed off or dismissed. Like when his anger would flare up over something small.
Then a few months ago, he’d asked her to move in with him. Indie had thought it would make them stronger. That it would help her want him more.
And want them less.
But she’d been trying to force something that wasn’t there. And it was guilt over using him which had kept her with him.
Not any longer, though.
He had no right to threaten her. To throw punches near her face.
To scare her.
“Get away from me,” she ordered.
He reached down and drew her up onto her feet. Then he leaned his hands against the wall on either side of her head. He looked slightly manic.
This wasn’t good.
“I know you want them.”
Her breathing grew faster. He couldn’t . . . there was no way he could know that.
She’d never told anyone. Not even Maggie.
“I see the way you lust after them. It’s not right. Your brother and his friends. Fucking disgusting.”
Stepbrother.
“I . . . I . . . you don’t know a-anything.”
“Oh, Indie. Of course I do. I know it all.” He cupped the side of her face. “I know I’m second best.”
“That’s not . . . that’s not true.”
Guilt swirled tighter in her stomach. Maybe this was her fault.
“It just upsets me so much because I love you.” He closed his eyes, shaking his head. “I love you so much. But I’m a fucking asshole, aren’t I?”
“No, no,” she said immediately. Even though she didn’t really mean it.
What was she doing?
She needed to get out of here. Away from him.
But was it her fault that he was acting this way?
“You just tie my feelings and emotions up in knots,” he told her. “I feel . . . used. Am I not good enough for you? I know I could be there for you more. I’m so busy at work, making a name for myself, so I can get us a better place to live and nicer things. I know how you grew up, how you need that sort of stability. I work so fucking hard for us, babe. Is it really too much to ask that you are here when I get home? That you don’t go out with other men?”
“I’m sorry,” she told him, even though she wanted to tell him that they were her friends, her family. Even though she wanted to point out that she’d had a job which he’d asked her to give up when she moved in with him.
That she didn’t care about where they lived or how much he could buy her.