Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 38104 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 152(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38104 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 152(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
We stood close, but not touching. My eyes prickled because our proximity didn’t change the fact I felt miles away from him.
“Now I’ve seen that I’ve got to roll. We’ll talk, figure this shit out. Maybe when I’m a little less fuckin’ furious.” He touched my cheek briefly, but didn’t say a word and then turned to leave.
I watched woodenly as he disappeared down the corner of the hallway. I then crawled back into his bed and stared at the ceiling. His indifference, his anger, was well founded. But, I also didn’t know that shit about his mom. If I did, I would’ve done things differently. He also was supposed to know me, know that I didn’t do shit like yesterday on a whim. He should know that I wouldn’t leave like I did without a reason. He couldn’t see past his anger, couldn’t even give me the time to explain. Not when club business was waiting.
I rolled over and groaned when I realized the day. Saturday. Visit with the she-devil day. And I had to do it hungover. The universe freaking loved me. Little did I know the universe had far from finished with me.
I have no idea how I did it. Survived an hour feeling like death warmed up and nursing a snit with my boyfriend. And battling the debilitating fury that had settled at the base of my stomach knowing he was out there. Free to live his life. Finished the measly sentence, while I would never escape my lifetime sentence. But I did. I let the insults about my hair, my job, the fact I looked like a drug addict today, I let all of it slide over me.
But when I got out, I struggled to get it under control. Get myself breathing right.
“Macy?” a concerned voice asked from beside me.
I glanced to see Robert push off from the wall he was leaning on to approach me, his worried eyes taking me in.
I sucked in a breath and straightened.
“You okay?” he asked, lightly touching my arm.
“Yeah,” I said weakly, not sounding at all convincing. I felt like I was about to implode.
He frowned at me. “The fact you’re a disturbing shade of green begs to differ. That place making you physically sick now?”
I laughed. “No, it just so happens that place seems to magnify an already horrific hangover,” I informed him.
He gave a knowing grimace. “Yeah, I can imagine that does not do wonders for any kind of ailment… hangovers even more so…” He paused. “Want me to take you for a coffee? Maybe some greasy food?”
I considered it. Yeah, I knew this guy alluded to wanting more, but his suggestion seemed platonic, friendly. He was nice, understood the shit that I was going through. Well, maybe not everything, but stuff pertaining to my grandma and that place. I suspected, with the pain in his eyes that he needed someone to talk to as well. Also, facing a male who wasn’t completely and utterly furious with my hungover self-factored in there too.
“Yeah, that sounds good,” I agreed finally.
He grinned and his hand went lightly to my lower back. “How about we take my car? I’m worried about the chances of your being able to operate a motor vehicle right now,” he joked.
I let him lead me into the parking lot. “Yeah, I might have to agree with you there.”
He stopped us in front of a shiny, silver BMW. “Holy shit,” I exclaimed. “This is a freaking nice car. Maybe I should become a lawyer. Selling your soul’s totally profitable,” I commented, my usual lack of filter not hindered by mild alcohol poisoning.
Robert laughed easily and he didn’t seem offended by the ‘selling your soul’ part. He opened the door for me. “Yeah, well, sometimes being a blood sucking lawyer has its perks.” He winked at me as I sank into the leather seats.
I laughed easily, genuinely, for the first time since Jim’s phone call. It felt good.
“So Macy, apart from subjecting yourself to weekly visits to the asylum. What do you do?” Robert asked, after pulling out of the parking lot.
I glanced over at his attractive profile. “I’m a graphic designer, working from home. I’m a full-time computer hermit, part time Lord of The Rings and Star Wars enthusiast,” I told him.
His eyebrows rose. “You’re a graphic designer?” he repeated. “And like Star Wars?”
I grinned slightly. “Why, you don’t think a computer geek can be someone other than a slightly overweight man living in his mom’s basement?” I teased.
He laughed. “No, it’s not that, I just haven’t encountered one quite as interesting and beautiful as you,” he commented.
I blushed. Maybe he wasn’t interested in the purely platonic.
“Our firm’s actually looking for some new logos, website redesign, I might have to look at your work,” he mused, pulling into the parking lot of a trendy looking coffee shop.
And with that, somehow Robert seemed to move my mind out of the dark recesses it had retreated to and made me forget about reality, if only for a while.
Coffee with Robert took me on a little trip. Showed me what life would be like if I was the kind of girl who drank fancy, complicated coffee in sleek cafes. If I dated a guy, who wore three hundred dollar sweaters and drove fifty thousand dollar cars. It was nice. Comfortable even. But it wasn’t me. I knew that. Whatever complications I had with Hansen, whatever shit we had to get through after the last few days, we’d get through it.
So, after a couple of hours on holiday in the real world, I hopped in my car and drove back to my world. The one where I belonged. At least, where I thought I belonged. One step through the doorway of the place I thought of as home had those thoughts, and my heart, shattering into a thousand pieces.
I never forget a face. I wasn’t shit hot with names, but faces I was good with. This particular face was etched into my brain. Ditto with the name. You don’t really forget the guy that shot your parents for apparently seeing something they shouldn’t have. You don’t forget the man who took away your family and ruined your life.