Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 164910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 825(@200wpm)___ 660(@250wpm)___ 550(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 825(@200wpm)___ 660(@250wpm)___ 550(@300wpm)
Lifting my head, I blink my eyes open, seeing Liv Jaeger leaning over me and pressing her hand to the back of my neck.
My eyelids flutter, my hand reaching up and taking the soaking cloth she holds there. I pull it away, and she stands up straight.
A small cooler sits on the pavement next to her feet. I heard her crew was using part of the grounds today for a shoot.
The last time I saw her was high school graduation. Her whole family was in attendance, more as protection for what I tried to do to her than in support of her.
Turns out, I’m an ugly soul, too.
I fist the cloth in my hands, squeezing the icy water she probably got from the cooler. I whisper, “I really am sorry sometimes, you know?”
Standing up, I let my eyes trail over her flip-flops, up her black shorts and white linen blouse.
I toss the cloth onto the ground. “And then I remember you’re a fucking Jaeger.”
I see her jaw flex, but then I turn around and climb into my car.
* * *
—
An hour later, I’m bursting through the front door of my house. “Sophia!” I shout.
Goddammit. I really need a fucking drink, but I got to the school and found that she was already gone. The office had no idea who picked her up, and when I went to her favorite classroom and her favorite fucking teacher, he was gone, too. I drove around to the spots she liked. The library. The park. The dessert shop with the garden courtyard. Nothing.
I even called her therapist. Not that she would’ve gone to him outside of her scheduled appointments, but I had no clue why she would just leave school without telling me.
She wasn’t at his office, though.
I was about to trudge over to the damn Bay. If Dallas took her over there, we wouldn’t be waiting till Friday night for some fun. I thought it best to check at home first, in case her mother came back.
Or my father.
I stop in the center of the foyer, listening for her reply or her music or the TV, but the house is silent.
“Sophia!” I bellow, my throat stinging.
I’m exhausted. I almost hope I don’t find her, because I might strangle her.
I charge for the stairs, but then I see something in the sitting room and stop. Her old pink drapes are threaded through a warped wire hanger and secured to one of the chandeliers. The bottom balloons out around the carpet, like a tent. A small light glows from inside.
I cock an eyebrow, exhaling.
Stalking over, I whip open the curtain to see her lying asleep inside, her record player still spinning even though the music is over.
She wears the same thing as this morning. Her overalls and red T-shirt, not looking the slightest bit twenty years old with her petite frame and doll face.
I nudge her with my golf shoe.
She doesn’t budge.
“Wake up,” I tell her.
She doesn’t stir in the slightest. I narrow my eyes, watching her chest for signs of breathing.
“Sophia,” I bark.
Kneeling down, I scoop her up, half in my arms as her head flops back, lifeless.
I pinch her arm, and she immediately winces.
Opening her eyes, she scowls up at me. “Ow.”
You little faker.
“I told you to wait for me at the courtyard at school,” I growl.
“I finished early.”
“You’re not supposed to come home alone.”
She tilts her head to the side, smiling as she whispers, “But he’s gone.”
Tingles spread up my arms, the quiet house surrounding us, and it finally hits me, too.
We’re free. For a little while.
I look around, noticing the first thing she did was build a tent in the sitting room, complete with chairs to hold the curtains wider, a basket of snacks and drinks, her favorite snow globe, and some books.
I release her and stand up. “Did you eat?”
She sits up. “Dallas brought a lot of food for lunch and shared,” she tells me, taking my hand to pull herself up. “He said he wanted to be full, because he was going to drink his dinner.” She dusts off the crumbs on her legs, peering up at me.
I shake my head, sighing.
I lead her to the kitchen. “I wish you’d help other teachers,” I state. “Or volunteer at the animal shelter. You like cats.”
She plops down on a stool at the island as I pull out a bowl the housekeeper left us. Opening it, I smell jambalaya.
“I like his room best,” she tells me.
I set the container in the microwave and start heating it. “I don’t want you in there. Understand?”
“Don’t make me leave,” she bursts out.
I look over my shoulder at her, seeing her eyebrows pinched together in panic. Her chest rises and falls faster.
“I don’t want to change anything,” she cries. “Callum…”
“Calm down, Sophia.”
I grit my teeth together. Jesus. She has to have a damn meltdown every time someone fucks with her world in the slightest.