Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55375 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55375 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
“But what is the right thing?” I ask.
“I don’t know.” He grabs the back of the chair with tight fists, shaking his head as if at the entire world. “Why do you have to be Mike’s daughter?”
“Sorry. I can’t really help that.”
He picks up his coffee and leans over the table, kissing me on the forehead. It feels so couple-like and natural. If it weren’t for Dad, I’d feel like the luckiest woman alive. He’s experienced, mature, handsome, funny, and fierce, and said I was his. He owned me. I want it again so badly.
With the sunlight bouncing off the snow, filling the room, I can’t bring myself to pounce on him again. It’s like the sunlight shows our shame, the true magnitude of our actions. He turns away and leaves the room quickly. We’re back to square one—pretending again.
I move my hand over my belly, imagining for a second. I can’t let my thoughts go there, though it is possible. Neither of us has commented on the fact we didn’t use a condom. I guess we’re leaving that to fate, just like the rest of our relationship.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
JACOB
Iput my whole body into each motion of the shovel, carving the snow, tossing it aside, and making a path between the cabin and the car. Then I start clearing around the car, enjoying the sweat stinging against my skin and my body’s exertion. At least it gives me something to distract myself from what I’ve done and what I’m still doing—lying.
I’m lying to Mike about his daughter, to Emma about her dad, and to Emma about something else, too. Before I came here, I was in ready-to-die mode. I didn’t know how badly I’d want to spend the rest of my life with Emma. I didn’t realize how badly I’d need to own her—every inch. No, that’s crap. I knew. I just didn’t want to believe it.
Two lies. Two. One is for Mike, but I can’t tolerate the other one. Tossing the shovel down, I return to the cabin to find Emma sitting at the window, painting. There’s an outline of me and the car. She’s made me imposing, looming over the car. She turns, wearing a shirt, sleeves up, flecks of yellow paint on her wrist.
“What is it?” she says, her face dropping. “It’s not Dad, is it? I just spoke to him. He wouldn’t tell me why he was in Little Hope, either. I’ve never known him to be this mysterious, Jacob. Stop looking at me like that.”
I sit on the chair, Rusty at my side, rubbing my hands together. “Emma, I lied to you.”
In my mind, I hear Mike on the phone earlier today. “Please, you got to understand, but she won’t. Emma will freak out. I don’t know how this happened to me.”
“You remember what I told you. You remember the plan. It’s not safe.”
“I can take care of myself. Just take care of my daughter.”
As if I’d ever do anything else regarding my Emma…
Now Emma stares at me. It’s taking everything I have not to maul her again. The sunlight is helping there, melting the snow and melting my certainty. Last night, trapped, it was so much easier.
“Jacob?” she snaps.
“Rafael tried to put a tracker on my car. I removed it. Five miles to the west, there’s a trap set up for any bastard who tries to hurt you. It means danger’s closer than I told you.” I swallow, a lump in my throat. Should I tell her about Mike? It’s not my place. Dammit, why did he have to tell me?
“Is that it?” she asks.
“Isn’t that enough?” I say gruffly.
She stands and walks around the table. At first, I think she’s not wearing bottoms, but she has shorts on underneath the baggy shirt. Then I realize.
“Is that mine?” I say, gesturing to her shirt.
“Do you mind?”
I grab her hips when she’s close and pull her into my lap. She wraps her arms around me. “I know you’ll do the best for us,” she says. “If you think a trap is the right thing to do, then it is. You’ve been doing this for a long, long time. You’re still here for a reason. Hell, even when you tried to… you still made it back.”
“I made it back for you,” I tell her, gliding my hand up her leg. “Are you trying to drive me wild, dressing like this?”
I lean in and kiss her, greedily massaging her voluptuous thigh, but then her cell phone starts to ring. She glances at the table with a terrified expression captured in the sunlight before she corrects it. She forcibly wipes it from her face, but I saw it. The outside world is back.
“It’s Mom,” she says, reaching over and picking it up. “I should probably answer.”
“It’s fine,” I grunt. “I need to get back to work anyway.”