Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 68598 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68598 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
I did and I do.
The moment he made a single keystroke on his computer, I knew.
I could literally sit down at my computer and mirror his every single move on my computer screen.
The flame inside of me withered and died.
“Do me a favor,” I heard myself say, not able to look at him. “Look up the information in that old case file.” I swallowed hard. “When you do…and if you still want to talk to me, you know where to find me.”
His eyes went dark and heated for a few long seconds, then his gaze went back to my lips.
He’d been doing that a lot.
“Should we be worried that JP isn’t in the room anymore?” he asked.
His worry and concern for my daughter was slightly euphoria inducing. I loved that he cared whether she was okay.
Would he care once he read that case file?
Would he come back?
Would he…
“Eyes on me,” I heard him say.
But what he said was accompanied by him placing his hand on my jaw, his fingers wrapping around one side while his thumb went to another.
I swallowed hard, my gaze once again turning to face his.
“No,” I answered his earlier question. “She’s with Val. Simi sent her out of the room.”
Just as those words left my lips, I heard a throat clear.
“Everything okay here?” Keene’s dark, velvety smooth voice said.
I couldn’t look away from Kobe, and I could tell that he was happy that his hand was on my face because I most definitely would’ve used the interruption to look away.
Eyes twinkling, he said, “Tell him that you’re okay, so he’ll leave.”
I felt more than saw Keene stiffen at Kobe’s words.
“I’m okay,” I promised Keene. “I swear.”
“What’s the code word?” he asked.
When I’d found myself sitting across the table from the seven siblings, explaining everything and telling them I needed a place to lie low for a time while I planned my next step, I’d realized that I was entering into a family unit. One that protected what they felt was their own.
That included every single person in the circus.
Me after a time.
JP after no time.
“Jumping belly beans,” I answered.
Keene sighed. “Holler if you need anything, Fol.”
“Fol” was something they’d all taken to calling me when I’d first started hanging out at the circus. I had a feeling it was due to Keene’s insight into the “she’s running away from something” first impression.
Keene was military through and through.
According to the sisters, he left when he was eighteen and only came back when he was in his midthirties when his father had taken a sudden turn for the worse.
When their father died, Keene had gotten out of the military and signed on full time with the circus, for them, he’d said.
Now, calling me Fol meant that he could hide me better. By not using my full first name, it meant that he could plausibly deny anything about “Folsom.”
“I’m not leaving,” he said. “I’m gonna sit right here and read this case file you think I need to read. But I’m not leaving.”
I felt tiny little sparks of hope reignite in my belly.
Sadly, they weren’t meant to be.
He needed to have an outlet for the feelings he was about to be feeling. And being here wasn’t a place that he could show those.
Proving my thoughts on the matter, Caristonia finished up on stage with her cats, causing the small crowd to clap and hoot and holler.
“Thank you,” I heard her call, bowing slightly. “Now for the real entertainment, my sister, Zip!”
Zip really was the “entertainment.”
She was the reason the circus was so popular right now.
Not saying that the circus wasn’t a great show. It really was.
But in the middle of the week, on a Tuesday, the only thing that was going to draw a crowd was Zip and her trapeze show.
Thanks to a viral video of her flying through the air and narrowly missing dying due to a failed harness that was supposed to catch her when it didn’t, the stands were now filled on Tuesdays just to get an eye on her act.
Meanwhile, the rest of them got a reprieve.
Unfortunately, that meant my cue to leave.
Zip meant people. And people meant that JP and I were out, even though JP absolutely adored watching Zip’s performance.
“Listen, Kobesan,” I said matter-of-factly. “I can’t do this.”
His eyes went wide.
That’s when I realized what I’d called him. “San” tacked onto the end of a name in Japanese culture was a form of respect. Reverence. Usually, it denoted someone that was respected, cared about, or special in some way to the person saying it.
And I’d showed him my hand.
One, he not only knew that I knew about his culture. Two, he knew that I was interested enough to know about his culture.
His eyes glowed, but before he could say anything else, the lights around the room dimmed and Zip appeared on stage.