Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 155798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 779(@200wpm)___ 623(@250wpm)___ 519(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 155798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 779(@200wpm)___ 623(@250wpm)___ 519(@300wpm)
He cursed, the wheel pulling to the left before he righted it. “Don’t know what to say to that.”
“Where are we going?” I’d left Lo and Roger back at Jack’s BBQ. Also out of character for me. And if Lo called Vicky? Vicky and Howard. They’d both be worried about me. Oh, well… At least I’d told Vicky about Brett.
“…I can’t help but wonder if maybe he’s the first one to get the real you out of you.”
Maybe she wouldn’t be so surprised.
“I was just driving until you sorted out whatever you need to sort out,” Brett said. “Then I was hoping we could have a discussion about where you’d like to go.”
Gah. He was so sweet, which was surprising because the Brood Machine wasn’t known for being friendly to anyone, off or on the field. It was well known that he didn’t have a lot of other football players as friends. A few here and there. Olvander was the exception, it seemed, but some of his past teammates had done interviews and when asked about Brett, they admitted no one really knew him.
My mind was already going a mile a minute, and it was exhausting.
“I live with Vicky and Howard,” I blurted. “On their farm.” He needed to know.
His eyebrows furrowed.
“I mean, I don’t live with them, but I live on their property. In a house. Their guesthouse. It isn’t a guesthouse anymore since I started living in it. They have seventy acres outside of town. They could have lots of houses if they wanted, but they don’t. Just mine. Which was theirs.” I was rambling. I looked his way at a stop light, and he watched me. His eyes were big and dark and chocolaty and warm, and I felt all the tingly feelings again.
I swallowed, remembering what I’d been saying and why I’d been telling him. “So, you know, I moved there because the reporters were bad. They kept trying to follow me and find out where I lived. But it wasn’t just because of the press. There were fanatics too.”
His eyes flashed. “Fanatics?”
“You know, the serial killer lunatics. All sorts of them. Serial killer groupies. The ones who want to get close to a serial killer. The ones who are inspired by serial killers. The ones who want to finish his job…” Those were the worst. A cold chill went down my spine.
“Wait.” Brett pulled to the side of the road, shifted into park. “That happened?”
His eyes were blazing, his jaw clenched. A wave of anger rolled off him, anger and something worse. Violence. He was fully capable of doing serious harm to another person.
I felt that before and felt it again.
I swallowed a knot.
“Sick fucks try to get to you?” he asked.
“There were a few, back in the day. Mostly it’s threatening calls and letters. I only had one email connected to Willow Harm, and I closed that down after the show. It gets worse whenever I’m in the news, or if his lawyers are trying to do an appeal.”
One was coming up, another attempt for him. They were never successful, but they always did a press tour trying to gain sympathy.
“Hey.” Brett’s tone went soft, and he inclined his head. “What just happened? You were with me, talking to me, and I felt a shift. You distanced yourself.”
I laughed abruptly. How could he sense all that from me? The way I reacted to him? It was jarring. I’d spent all my life hiding, and he knew what was going on inside me after three times being in my presence?
I felt exposed.
His eyes narrowed. “What’s going on? You’re a mile away.”
I motioned between us. “This is really sudden.” He was quiet, and now I felt him pulling away. I didn’t look up. I wasn’t sure how to handle any of this. “Don’t you think?”
“What do you mean by that?”
I looked up and his eyes were different, a wall had come down.
I didn’t like seeing that. “I think—I think we should go slow.”
“Slow?”
I nodded. “Yeah. Slow.”
“What are we talking about? Am I allowed to drive you home, or you still don’t want me to know where you live? That kind of slow?”
The wall had come down completely over him, including his tone. “No. I mean, yes, I want you to drive me home. I’m talking about how you seem to know me already. That’s—for someone like me, with my background, that’s a lot. That’s all I’m saying.”
He studied me as I spoke, and some of the tension that’d filled the truck eased. “I can see that.”
“Yeah?”
His eyes warmed again. “Yeah. How about I give you a ride home, and we do a call tomorrow?”
I felt warm all over again. “I’d really like that.”
He grinned at me, holding my gaze for another few seconds before he put the truck back in drive and pulled away from the curb. “I’m quite content to keep driving around this neighborhood, but eventually you’ll need to let me know how to drive you home.”