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)
It’s starting to sound familiar, though. The double meaning.
Leaving…
How many times had something that Macon—or my mother—said make me pause and think they meant something other than what they said.
“Anna-Katherine, I’m driving now,” I tell her. “You want to sing your song to me? It was something about horses, right?”
I can’t think, déjà vu slamming me hard. She’s crying, I’m the only one here…
She swallows a few times. “Danc-ing bears,” she mutters, her voice shaking. “Pain-ted wings, thiiings I almoooost rememmmmber…”
She keeps going, and I race across the canal, entering St. Carmen. She goes on, singing, humming, then singing again, and I almost don’t pay attention to the road, the lyrics sinking in.
It’s about lost childhood. Remembering a time when she was safe.
Son of a bitch.
Coasting around the center of town, I climb up to Marymount, seeing the cop right before I pass him.
I flit my eyes to the time on my phone. 12:02 a.m.
Shit.
Holding my breath, I take in the dim cab and dark headlights.
And I fly by, glancing in my rearview mirror, waiting for it. For the lights to beam bright. The sirens to start.
As I drive, though, the distance between the cop and me keeps increasing, and nothing happens. The black police cruiser just sits.
There’s someone in there, though.
Come on, Army.
When she stops singing, I ask her, “Is Callum at the school with you?”
I don’t know what happened. If he came back to the Ministry offices or what?
She whimpers, “No, I ran from home.”
“I’m almost there.” I turn into the parking lot and brake right in front of one of the side doors. “Sing it again.”
I listen to her timid voice turn softer as each word comes out, her breathing calming more. I go to unlock the door, but it’s already open. She must have a key. Or she stole Callum’s.
Hopefully, he’s not here already. He might have assumed she’d run here.
I peer out the windows, toward the gate and out to the street, which is turning black with rain. No headlights. No movement. Just trees swaying with the weight of the fat drops falling from the sky.
Coming here might’ve given Anna-Katherine’s whereabouts away, but what was I supposed to do? Flipping the lock, I secure the door and jog up to my classroom.
As I reach the top of the stairs and head to my room, I look over the railing and down into the courtyard. Rain spills silently, watering the garden below, the shadows of the corridors around the perimeter empty and dark.
I approach my classroom door. “Anna-Katherine?”
I reach for the light switch, but she stops me. “Can you leave it off?” she calls out.
Again, her voice is deeper than usual. Sterner.
Glancing into the reading nook, I see her hand move, the small flame of a candle glowing across her face. She lies on the couch, facing me with her other hand tucked under her head.
Leaving the overhead light off, I walk to her, taking in the same clothes she was wearing earlier. Jean pedal pushers with a black-and-white striped T-shirt, saddle shoes, and a pale pink ribbon in her hair.
“You’re safe,” I say.
But as I stand there, I realize I don’t know what to do. I thought I’d be fighting someone when I got here or rescuing her from something, but the place is quiet, including her.
I never had to deal with the kids at home.
“There’s…hot cocoa in the teacher’s lounge,” I broach. “Lemonade, tea?”
“Can I have some of your bourbon?”
She knows I keep bourbon in my desk? Shit.
I know I shouldn’t. I don’t care, of course—I’ve been drinking half my life—but it’s different with her. She’s not a student, but she is still only twenty. And Callum’s sister, and he’d love any reason to have me arrested.
I don’t think this is Anna-Katherine, though, and I’ve never met Sophia.
Fuck him.
I make my way over to my desk and pull open the drawer, plucking out the bottle and mug. As I pour a few fingers, I text Army.
In my classroom.
The police have keys. He shouldn’t have a problem unless someone follows him here.
Heading back to Sophia, I watch her sit up, her back against the arm of the couch. I hold out the mug.
She slouches and sips, her eyes downcast, tears glistening on her lashes. Ice starts to cover my insides as I wait to hear what I know is coming, but part of me doesn’t want to.
It feels awkward fucking standing here, but no one talks to me about personal things. I’ve seen Army comfort Dex and Liv hold Clay when her parents’ divorce became final and she shed a few tears. I don’t do hugs.
Sliding down, I plant my ass on the floor, leaning back into the couch. I glance at her over my shoulder, just waiting.
She called me for a reason. Should I try to get her out of here?