Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 152853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 764(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 510(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 764(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 510(@300wpm)
“And I'm sure my father never charged you rent.” She makes it a point to add that dig in at the end. Her tone always comes across as resentful or jealous. No surprise there. I’ve always felt her resentment, even if I didn’t know where it originated.
“He never charged you, either.” I give her a tight, nasty smile to match hers before it’s time for the inevitable. My stomach tightens into a ball of anxious knots. I have to go inside sometime. Rationally, I know there's nothing in there that can touch me. It’s only a set of walls, with a floor and roof. There isn’t even a piece of furniture from the old days inside. I double-checked.
Nothing in this house can hurt me, but somehow, I’m still that little boy, reliving all those days in this house. After my mother died, I never intended to come back here.
“How old is this place? How come you’ve never been back? Did you at least check to ensure the utilities were turned on before we arrived? I can’t handle being in the middle of nowhere with no electricity or running water.”
I can’t be bothered to answer. She’ll figure out soon enough that everything’s turned on and working fine. Does she really think I’m that stupid? I didn’t spend ten years at her father’s side without learning a thing or two about covering my bases. If she only knew the sort of shit I’ve juggled for him, the last thing she would be worried about is the electricity and water being on.
Once I’ve slid the key into the lock, she finally voices the singular question I knew was coming. “Are your parents deceased?”
The creaking of the swinging door is the only response she receives. Rather than stand here and allow a flood of memories to slam into me, I step aside to give her room to enter before setting down the box in my arms.
“Feel free to look around while I bring in the bags and boxes. You can take the big bedroom facing the street. It has the biggest closet.” I jerk my chin toward the stairs up ahead and to the right.
We’re standing in the living room, while beyond that is the eat-in kitchen, visible thanks to the half-wall separating the two large rooms. Upstairs are the master bedroom and a pair of smaller rooms with a bathroom between them.
“This is where you grew up, isn’t it?” I can’t tell what’s behind the question when she stops dead in the center of the living room and turns in a slow circle, scanning it. The new furniture, the bare, freshly-painted walls.
“Yes, this is where I grew up, Princess. This is where I became the person I am today, although it looked wildly different back then.”
The look she gives me could rival that of a serial killer right before he kills his first victim. “Shut up. How is it different?” Color me surprised that she’s interested in learning something about me, but even worse, why?
“You’re standing in it, for one thing.” She mutters unintelligibly behind me as I step onto the porch and return to the car.
This isn’t fifty questions where we try to get to know each other. I’m not sure where she ever got the idea that I might be in the mood to answer questions about my life before I knew her. I was being a smartass with the cave joke, but now I have to wonder if she ever gave me any thought before now. It was like I didn’t exist before the morning we met—the most challenging morning of my life.
Sixteen years old and in an entirely different world than anything I’d ever imagined. A mansion behind a stone wall, accessed through a wrought iron gate. Guards posted out front. Ceilings that towered high over my head and so much space—stepping back into my childhood home is a stark reminder of how vastly different we are.
“You don’t have anything to worry about.” Callum’s voice was strong, clear, and precisely what I needed. I could hold onto it. He seemed like a man who had the whole world by the balls. Somebody I could trust and believe. “You’ll be safe with us.”
I was safe… mostly. Thanks to the world Callum exists in, there have been dangerous situations, but I’ve never regretted a minute of it. Until now, that is. I told myself I’d never come back here.
There’s one silver lining in all of this. After ten years, I highly doubt anyone will recognize me. A decade makes a big difference. Everyone I grew up with has moved on by now, and those who haven’t would’ve forgotten I ever existed. Which works out perfectly for me since the last thing I need is someone recognizing me.
Once I return to the house, I find Tatum in the kitchen, opening cabinets and looking through the fridge. On the outside, she’s the same girl she always has been: blonde, petite, with a body I’ve wished more than once belonged to a different girl. Anybody but the daughter of Callum Torrio. From looking at her, nobody would guess that she’s gone through months of mental and physical anguish. There’s no hiding it. There are no physical wounds to the naked eye, but I see the deeper scars every time she flinches or the faraway look she gets in her eyes sometimes when she appears lost in thought. It’s in her thin frame—thinner than she’s been since she was the gawky kid I first met. Her body is lost in the oversized sweats she wears now, a far cry from the too-tight, too-short skirts and dresses she used to don. It’s in her drawn face, the eyes that seem to be constantly moving. Like she’s waiting for the next surprise, the next terror.