Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 84533 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84533 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
But I couldn’t stop thinking about him, this twitch forming in my chest that felt wrong and uneasy because all my thoughts shouldn’t be possessed by him. Obsessed. Possessed. Both fit, and the more time went by, the more it grew.
I went to the hardware store first, not sure if I was relieved or upset that he wasn’t there.
Trying to shove all thoughts of Cyrus out of my head, I went to the grocery store next. Like always, people looked at me and talked about me as I went up and down the aisles. I hadn’t had any trouble with Billy and the guys lately, probably because they were afraid of getting hurt. Still, every now and again, I would have to deal with them, and next time, I hoped I would be able to control myself. If it hadn’t been for Cyrus, I might not have stopped.
I picked up a few things, but the eyes on me made my skin feel too tight, made me want to lash out at them all, if for nothing more than to give them a reason to look at me the way they did.
I checked out, put the bags in my truck, ready to get the fuck out of there, when I felt a tingle at the back of my neck. I looked up to see Cyrus walking out of the pharmacy with a bag in his hand, drowning in a large coat. There was something different about him, but I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. He had a beanie covering his head, his gaze angled down, his body looking almost curled in on itself.
It was wrong, entangling myself with him even more, but I slammed the door, boots taking loud, hard steps across the parking lot.
I didn’t know if he heard me or sensed me, but suddenly his head shot up, gaze locking on mine, just as a deep rumble started low in my chest. His hand shot up to cover his face, but it was too late, the black eye all I could see. My teeth grinded together, my nostrils flaring.
“Wh-o.” The single word came out broken, and suddenly, I hated that I didn’t use my voice enough for it to sound right, hated that the rage festering inside me made it hard to get out.
“None of your business.”
“Who?” I managed to push out again. I vibrated with so much anger, I thought my bones would break, just grind to dust right there.
“It’s over, and I dealt with it.”
I didn’t doubt he had. I could feel his strength simmering beneath the surface, like a lion stalking its prey. The brave little lamb had spent a lifetime protecting himself, and still stood tall. Had he ever had someone look after him? Care for him? He’d mentioned his mother being incredible—was she that person? I’d spent the first eighteen years of my life thinking I’d never had someone like that, and not realizing I needed it until I got my mother’s journal and discovered she’d been that person for me.
I’d never wanted to be it for someone else, hadn’t even fathomed that was a possibility for me. People were confusing, frustrating, and I didn’t like them…but I liked him. I’d wanted to take care of him when he’d sprained his ankle, the feeling even more intense now. Whoever did this to him, I would rip them apart with my bare hands.
I growled, low and angry.
Cyrus tried to step around me, but I moved in front of him, blocking his path. He tried to take a step in the other direction, so I did it again.
“I understand it…why you like it out here. Somehow the seclusion and quiet helps silence the voices in my head.”
I took his arm and began tugging him toward my truck.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Cyrus tried to pull out of my grasp, but I didn’t let him, just kept walking as he tried to work himself free. “What the hell, Crow? Unless you want me to kick you in the balls like I did the guy who gave me this black eye, you better tell me what the fuck is going on.”
He’d kicked him. I had to bite the inside of my cheek so I didn’t smile. The action nearly had me stumbling because it was so foreign to me. When was the last time I’d smiled? That last time wasn’t something I could think about.
When we got to my truck, I ripped the passenger door open and motioned for him to get inside.
“No.”
I motioned again, but he crossed his arms, bag still in his hand, and stood his ground. “What’s the point? You don’t even know me. What do you care if someone hits me?”
Another growl pushed past my lips because I shouldn’t care. But I did.