Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 68576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
“Okay,” I waited, knowing this was about to be the showstopper.
“I waved at him as he walked inside his house. We were home for maybe ten minutes when I got a call from the cops saying that Sage was at the hospital, crying her eyes out, in the aftermath of a rape,” she continued.
I blinked a couple of times. “And she blamed it on the son.”
“She did!” my mom gasped. “What the absolute fuck?”
“What happened then?” I asked.
“I got up there and was listening to the female officer explain what happened, and who did it, and I had to stop her and tell her that wasn’t the case.” She groaned. “I couldn’t believe I was having to tell this officer that my daughter lied. Jesus Christ, Pepper. What the hell am I supposed to do?”
If I had an answer to that, I would’ve provided a solution a long time ago.
Why do people like to tell you they ran into your ex? Unless you ran into her with a car, I don’t care.
—Atlas’s secret thoughts
ATLAS
3 years ago
At first, I wasn’t too sure what I was looking at when the woman ran toward me.
And the only reason I could tell it was a woman was because of the female curves, and the dress she was wearing.
Her face was battered to the point of appearing like raw meat, and there was so much blood on her blue sundress that I wondered if there was any left in her body.
She ran straight for me, her eyes only open to slits due to swelling.
I got out of my cruiser and reached for the mic at my shoulder. “Victim located.”
I ran toward her in time to catch her right as she fell.
“I’ve got you,” I told her breathlessly.
“He had me,” she said. “That serial killer. He had me.”
Those were the first and last words she said about the serial killer in my presence.
After staying with her for hours at the hospital and having to nearly force her to let me go, I was well and truly worn out. Mentally and physically.
I was exhausted by the time I got home that night.
The woman I’d been seeing—who my family would give me so much shit for if they knew—had called me four times over the last hour to find out where I was.
I’d sent multiple texts to her saying that I was caught up with work stuff, but that had apparently fallen on deaf ears.
When I pulled up to my place, I found her standing outside the door with her arms crossed and an angry look plastered across her usually beautiful face.
I didn’t have the energy to deal with her bullshit today.
I truly didn’t.
Emory Cline was a beautiful woman.
Tall, model like, and wispy thin, she had this ethereal appearance that usually hit all my buttons.
Today, though?
I wanted to see the inside of my door as it closed on her face.
“Emory,” I said tiredly. “I’m sorry I missed you today.”
She snorted. “I highly doubt that since you didn’t rush home after you got done at the hospital.”
I felt my eyelid twitch. “I had to go to work and finish the report on the victim.”
She rolled her eyes. “And you didn’t go and talk to multiple female officers, laugh with them, while you did that?”
Was she stalking me or something?
“I try to be nice to everyone I see,” I said stiffly.
And I did.
I wasn’t a mean person like my twin brother, Auden.
See, I had faults.
I had OCD—obsessive compulsive disorder.
In my younger years, I’d had a really hard time making friends because of my OCD tendencies. As a result, I tried to be nice to everyone, even when they weren’t nice to me.
That niceness had extended to my adult life, and at this point, it was just the way I was.
In addition to the OCD, I also had a sleeping disorder where I liked to sleepwalk to fuck knew where.
That was why I always tried so hard with girlfriends—like Emory—that I should’ve let go a long time ago. I liked to ignore red flags.
That was just the man I was—the man I would always be.
“You are too nice,” she snapped. “That woman didn’t need you there the entire day.”
No, Sage Solomon probably didn’t.
But she’d had no family come to see her, and I’d felt guilty leaving her there all by herself.
After learning that Sage not only had parents who were alive, but three siblings who also refused to come check on her after the hell she’d suffered, I’d promised her I would stay.
I’d also spent a lot of that time googling her family and wondering what kind of monsters they were that they didn’t care what Sage had gone through.
“I’m me, Emory,” I told her. “I’m not going to change.”
She narrowed her eyes, her gaze searching, and nodded her head. “You’re right. You’re not.”