Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 109783 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109783 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
My aunts and uncles had taken turns popping in to visit after I returned from a quick trip to the emergency room. I’d lost consciousness mostly from shock, though I did have a few bumps and bruises. My chin was swollen and bruised, along with my right eye and cheek. Mum kept bringing over a fresh ice pack to put on my eye until I waved her off, needing a break from the chill of it pressed to my skin.
The adrenaline coursing through my body had dulled the pain. It was only now, hours after the altercation, that the throbbing made itself known. I could feel Fyfe’s eyes on me the whole evening, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. He and Millie were staying at my parents’ tonight. I’d given them the annex. Millie was sleeping in a travel cot beside him while my family spoke in hushed tones. Lewis and Callie had reluctantly left a few hours ago to put Harley to bed. My aunts and uncles had slowly departed after that.
Mum and Dad were freaked out and attempting not to show how freaked out they were. I knew one of the reasons they’d secretly hated my career choice was because of the fame. Of the scrutiny it would bring. Of the strange folks who might fixate on me.
Their worst fear had come true.
Mine too.
Peter Pryor had hidden the darkness in him until he no longer could. He was under police supervision while he recovered from his two gunshot wounds (one in each shoulder). The police here coordinated with the Met Police in London. His attack on me was enough to get a hastily processed warrant, and they’d recovered his computer from his home this evening. Fyfe assured my family there was enough evidence on it to put Peter Pryor away for a long time. I despised the fact that there were strangers in the police department combing through recordings of me in my most private moments. And I dreaded the upcoming court case and the media frenzy it would cause.
Yet there was relief in knowing who was behind the violation. Relief in knowing he couldn’t hurt me again.
“I think Eilidh needs rest,” Fyfe said.
I still couldn’t look at him.
“Of course.”
“Will you sleep in my bed, Eils?” Mor asked quietly.
I also hated that this darkness I’d attracted had leaked into my family, affecting them too. “Aye,” I promised. I pushed to my feet and Morwenna came with me. Kissing my mum and dad, I waved in Fyfe’s direction without meeting his gaze and called good night to everyone.
Mor’s bedroom was a bookworm’s dream. Mor and Allegra McCulloch had painted a mural of a misty forest on the wall where Mor’s bed was placed. The largest wall in the room was filled with floor-to-ceiling custom shelves, stacked to the brim with books. There was even a ladder on a rail so she could reach the top shelves. Fairy lights were strung around her wrought iron bed frame. The room reminded me of innocence and magic, things I was sorely lacking this evening.
After we’d dressed for bed, we got in and Mor snuggled deep against me. Exhausted, she was out within minutes.
I, however, couldn’t sleep.
Not just because today’s attack kept playing over and over in my mind, making my heart race and palms slick with sweat, not just because my face was pulsing with pain … but because I owed Fyfe an apology. I couldn’t say it in front of an audience. But I didn’t think I could sleep until he knew how sorry I was.
Though my parents were quiet, I heard them come upstairs and close themselves in their bedroom. A while later, being careful not to wake Mor, I climbed out of bed and tiptoed downstairs. Sticking my feet into boots I kept at the side entrance, I let myself out and hurried over to the annex.
I knocked softly. “Fyfe?”
Almost immediately, I heard movement inside and a few seconds later, the door swung open.
Fyfe stepped back to allow me entrance and then closed the door behind me.
The travel cot was set up by the bed and Millie was sound asleep.
Tears brightened my eyes, her wails from earlier filling my mind.
I whirled on Fyfe. He’d put on his glasses and though his hair was mussed and he was half-dressed, he didn’t appear as if I’d woken him up. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered on a sob. “I’m so sorry.”
His expression tightened before he drew me into his arms.
I buried my face against his naked chest, my tears wetting his skin as I cried quietly.
“Hush. You have nothing to be sorry for,” he declared firmly as he stroked a hand down my hair.
I shook my head. “I put Millie in danger.”
“No.” Fyfe drew me back and gently cradled my bruised face, his head bending to mine. “Baby, no. Please don’t take that on.”