Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 84072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
She shakes me away, taking a step backward. “I can’t come with you. Your dad doesn’t want me there.”
“I don’t give a shit about my dad. He is not going to touch you. Now pack your stuff,” I order, but Wren doesn’t move, so I continue. “They know you are here; they trashed your car in front of the door, you are not safe here and as long as you stay here, neither is your mom.”
“And if I come with you, how are you safe? What if we put Tia in danger?”
“No one would dare try to do anything to you at my house. Do you really think I would make you come if I wasn’t absolutely sure Tia was safe?” My words seem to assure her a little.
She unfolds her arms and lets them hang next to her body. “I don’t know what to do. I’m just scared. Not just for myself.” Her eyes fill with tears.
She looks so small, so helpless, and all I can do is go to her and wrap my arms around her tiny frame. She stiffens at first, not anticipating a hug from me. It takes her a moment to relax in my hold. I rub small circles around her back, and she finally calms enough to melt into my chest.
A warm fuzzy feeling spreads through my body as Wren buries her face into my shirt. The same sensation I felt when she was in my bed, cuddling against me. I feel… whole.
That feeling lasts about a minute, and then my world comes crashing down around me.
The front door unlocks and a woman who looks like an older version of Wren enters the apartment. Vicky Delaney. The homewrecker who slept with my dad. The woman who destroyed mine and my sister’s lives. I hated her for months, blamed her for everything bad that has happened, and now she is here, standing in front of me with her big blue eyes, looking at me holding her daughter.
“Who are you?” she asks, her voice flat.
I release Wren, who turns to face her mother.
“Mom,” Wren says before I can get my throat to work. “This is Briggs Weston,” she introduces me hesitantly.
Recognition flickers over Vicky’s face. “Oh,” is all she says, at first.
For months I’d imagine what I would do if I would ever run into her. Yelling was at the top of that list, wrapping my hands around her throat crossed my mind as well. Now that the moment has come, I can’t do anything but stand in awkward silence.
“I’m so sorry about your mom,” Vicky finally says, her voice filled with compassion and guilt while tears fill her eyes.
My throat clogs up at the mention of my mom. All I can muster up is a nod.
“Briggs wants me to stay at his house until we find out who is sending me notes,” Wren explains, changing the subject.
“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Vicky questions.
“Yes, she’ll be safe there, and you will be safer as well.”
“I just want what’s best for my daughter.”
I nod again. “Believe it or not, so do I.” Both Wren and Vicky stare at me like I just grew horns. “I know that wasn’t the case in the past, but it is now. I want to make sure Wren is protected, and I can do that best at my house.”
“You are not like your father,” Vicky states, surprising me.
“I’m nothing like him,” I agree.
“Good… and I believe you.” Vicky turns to her daughter. “I think you would be safer with him too. No one is going to mess with the Westons. I can’t protect you here. Look at what they did to your car.”
Wren sighs deeply before looking from her mom up at me. “Okay, I’ll come with you.”
Relief seeps into my skin, calming my nerves. Now I just have to keep my promise and make sure Wren is safe.
27
WREN
If someone would have told me two weeks ago that I’m walking into Briggs’s house for my protection, I would have told them to fuck off. Yet, here I am, stepping into the lavish entry hall of his place.
“My dad is not here, and Tia is still in school,” Briggs explains as he leads me further into the house.
Last time I was here, I rushed in and out so quickly I didn’t have time to appreciate how nice his house is. My old sneakers squeak as I walk across the pristine tile floor, past the entry table with a large arrangement of fake flowers. I look up at the modern glass chandelier and admire its beauty.
“You have a nice house,” I mumble, feeling out of place.
“It was my mom’s dream home…” Briggs says, surprising me. This is the first time he’s mentioned his mom to me. I look over at him and catch surprise flickering over his gaze as well, as if he can’t believe he just casually talked about her.