Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 77775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Not disappointed like one would be if she found another man’s clothes scattered about…
What does Violet have to be guilty of?
“Morning, er, afternoon,” I say, wincing at my error. “I’m a sleepyhead today.”
She forces a smile. I don’t like that. Not one bit. It puts me on edge.
“It happens, honey. Why don’t you come into the kitchen so I can fix you something to eat?”
I hear raised voices outside and pause, craning my neck to listen. It sounds like Jude. He’s pissed, too. When I start for the front door, Violet shakes her head.
“Please, sweetie, don’t go out there. Let Jude take care of it.”
Take care of what?
A chill slides through my veins, turning them straight to ice.
Her behavior, Jude outside, the yelling, him needing to take care of something—it’s all adding up to something dreadful. I just know it.
Ignoring her plea, I march straight out the front door. The first thing I see is the bright red blob in the yard. Not just any blob. My car.
As soon as it registers that my car has been vandalized, I completely freeze as suffocating fear cloys the air around me. My lungs seize and I absently claw at my sweater as though it’ll help me breathe. I’m rooted to the front porch, unable to move or speak or scream.
It’s Sean.
Sean was here.
This is what he does.
A wave of nausea passes over me. I swallow the acidy bile trying to come up my throat. This can’t be happening. It can’t!
I was safe here.
I made sure of it.
How did he find me?
A cat or wounded animal makes a pained, horrible sound. It takes only a second to realize the sound is coming from me.
I’m the broken one.
I’m the one collapsing under the weight of terror.
Muffled voices are directed at me, but I can’t pick out who they belong to. My eyes are locked on the red blob of my car. It looks like blood.
I gag but thankfully don’t puke my guts out.
A white mask comes into view and strong hands grip my shoulders. I blink away the scarring image of my car and fixate on the blue eyes peering through the eyeholes at me. Jude’s concern flickers in his eyes as they dart all over me as if to assess where I’m hurting.
It’s inside.
It’s always deep, deep inside my heart and my head when Sean’s not around.
And then it hurts everywhere when he is.
“Tate,” Jude barks out, stealing my attention again. “Hey, that’s it. Look at me. I think you’re having a panic attack.”
“His car looks like a murder scene,” a voice—Dempsey—counters back in my defense. “I think he’s allowed to freak the fuck out.”
Jude ignores Dempsey and hauls me against his warm, solid chest. I sink against him, inhaling his cinnamon scent. Memories of last night and this morning dance inside my head. Jude strokes my back and whispers soft assurances. I could get lost in his protective, comforting embrace.
But then my mind jerks me out of his safety and back into panic mode.
Sean couldn’t have known I was here. I was so careful. Hell, I didn’t even turn on my computer or phone once since I’ve been here. He’s successfully found me plenty of times before and I think it has something to do with his buddy at the police department.
The last time the body shop fixed my car, I had them look for any kind of tracker, too. I’m almost a hundred percent sure he’s tracking me via my phone somehow. I didn’t turn it on, though.
I turn statue-still as a thought comes to me.
A memory.
The night I was forced to stay here, I found Jude lurking in my room near my suitcase. Did he…No. Surely he didn’t turn my phone on and spy on me.
Surely not.
Surely to God not.
He doesn’t even know my passcode to get into my phone.
He’s a freaking hacker, idiot. You’ve seen his wall of monitors in his office!
Which means he’s a lot more resourceful than Sean.
Being in his arms suddenly doesn’t feel so safe. It feels like a prison—his steely arms holding me inside.
I knew, in my gut, he was too much like Sean. I knew it, acknowledged it, and then straight up ignored it. Why? Because this is my pattern. I find the most dangerous, toxic man and entangle myself with him. I crawl right into their claws, let them cut me so fucking deep, and then wonder why I can’t escape.
Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!
I need therapy.
Not everyone else.
Me.
I start to push away from Jude’s chest, but he tightens his grip. It’s so stifling and hot. I just want to get the hell away from him—away from everything and everyone.
“L-Let me go,” I croak out, pushing against him again.
“No.”
I look up at him and make a grab for his mask. He shoves away from me like I’m the monster. Serves him right!