Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 119935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
“I’m sorry.” She sighed. She hated apologizing, but she knew she was wrong for such an outburst fueled by fury, despite her nerves being completely shot to death. He went for his coffee again and took a sip. He said not a word, but his forehead was lined with wrinkles, and that damn vein on the side of his neck was pulsing.
She gazed back out the window. It looked as if it were going to rain.
Their food came, and they began to eat their toast, scrambled eggs, and pancakes. She hated the uncomfortable silence. It wasn’t like someone pouting or being dramatic. It was complete detachment.
“I said I was sorry, Jack.”
“I heard you.”
He didn’t even look at her as he kept chewing, then chased his food down with a swig of juice.
“Look.” he placed the glass down after a while. “I know you’re going through a lot. We both are. That’s one of the reasons why we were attracted to one another, if we’re going to be honest, but you—”
“Trauma bond.”
“What?”
“It’s called a trauma bond. When two people feel like electricity… a current of sexual, mental, spiritual and emotional attraction. Intense chemistry. You saved me from that crazy guy at the restaurant that night, got my purse back, too, and then, when I was stranded after coming to your house, you helped me again. You felt the same way. That’s why you rushed me out of your house that time. I didn’t understand it then, but now I do. It made you uncomfortable at first—the attraction. I’ve thought about that quite a bit. It’s almost symbolic. Me being alone. Both times. In the snow. Unable to get away. Trauma bond soulmates are drawn to one another, but their roots aren’t grounded, and they aren’t watered or getting enough sun. We try to provide that for each other—share resources. Trauma bonded mates meet when they’re going through troubles. It’s a test. Similar troubles, in a way.”
“I’ve never heard of this before. How are our troubles similar?” He seemed genuinely interested, though still cautious.
“You lost your child. I lost the truth of my childhood. The life I thought I had is dead. Your son is deceased. My parents, though loving, were frauds. You were a loving father, whose son was taken away and the truth of his death covered in fraud and lies. You became withdrawn when people turned their back on you. Built a home far away. I ran. Got on a plane and booked it. Was going to move to Anchorage but coming to Fairbanks was faster and cheaper. I had no idea they were so far apart. I knew nothing about either city, and didn’t care. Barely did any research. I was desperate. Fate landed me here. Fate landed you here. With me.”
He ran his hands together and stared at her. Jack was so unreadable at times.
“Go on,” he pressed. “I’m listening.”
“I just wanted to fly away to a place I could hide. You hunted out answers, trying to dig up the truth from the cold, hard ground. You hide in the darkness, too, but only to strike when the timing is right for your kill. I know how to hide, and I do it well. When one is always running, figuratively and literally, sometimes one wants to be found… Subconsciously.” She sniffed and lowered her head. “You know how to bring hidden things into the light, and then drag them back where they belong, into the darkness, to die.” She met eyes with him again. “Sometimes, the prey wants to die. Sometimes the hunter doesn’t want to kill anything but his own pain. We’re on suicide watch. Not because we don’t want to live, but because it hurts too much to keep going without closure. That’s our Trauma bond.”
He glanced down at the newspaper, frowning, deep in thought.
“All right. I can agree with some of that,” he finally muttered. “So, I ask you again, what is your plan as far as your mother?”
“I’ll have to speak to her.”
“Do you think she’s going to try to get you to return to New York?”
“I have no idea. I’m not going, though.” She stabbed a link of turkey sausage with her fork, brought it to her mouth, and took a bite. “She said she’d come here, despite vowing to never come to Alaska again. You were right.”
He nodded.
“So, you haven’t communicated with her at all? Not even by text?”
“No. I’m going to call her when we get back to Fairbanks. Arrange a time and place for her to fly in. I’m not looking forward to it, but I know it has to be done.”
“Do you want me there with you?”
She tried to blink away the tears that threatened to fall from her eyes. As she spoke, the gravity of the situation became crystal clear.