Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 86833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
“Get in, kitty!” Bishop yells from behind the wheel.
I slip inside and pull my seatbelt on. “What’s going on?” I ask, clicking it in just as Bishop skids out of my driveway. I look into the side-view mirror to see the rest of the cars pulling out behind us. “Bishop!” I snap, looking toward him. “What’s going on and why am I in here?”
“You gonna explain, or should I?” Nate murmurs smugly from the back seat.
Bishop gives him a death stare into the rearview mirror. “That night you were with me.”
“Which night?” I add.
“The race.”
“I’m following.”
“You remember how I said something vague like ‘he won’t recognize you’?”
“Yes.”
“Well, he recognized you.” He drops the gear into second and floors it onto the main highway, away from the city.
“And who is he?”
Bishop looks into the rearview mirror at Nate before bringing his eyes back to the main road. “My dad.”
“WAIT.” I TURN IN MY seat to face him. “That was your dad? And why does it matter?”
Bishop looks to Nate again, his jaw tensing. “He thinks you’re someone else.”
“Well, that’s easy then.” I fling my hand around. “We’ll just tell him he has it wrong.”
“Yeah, that’s not how stuff works with him.”
“Well, explain,” I squeak. Bishop takes a turn, and I look behind us to see the rest of the boys following close behind. “And your mom’s famous! It can’t be that bad.”
“See, that’s the thing, though,” Nate says from behind me. “These people, every single one of them is in a powerful position.”
“Nothing makes sense,” I whisper, watching the blur of trees pass as we head deeper out of town.
Bishop growls, his fingers tensing around his steering wheel. “They think you’re someone else, and it’s hard to explain without letting something I can’t slip, slip, but they just…” He pauses, searching for the right words. “They think you’re someone else.
My body jolts from the bumpy road and I peel my eyes open, a yawn slipping past my lips. It’s dark out, the high beams the only light we have as we head deeper down a narrow dirt road that is lined with nature. Thick nature. I turn in my seat to see Nate and Tillie both asleep, Tillie cradled into the crook of Nate’s arm, and Nate with his hoodie up and his cap shading his eyes.
I look back to Bishop. “How long have we been driving?”
He adjusts in his seat. “Five hours.”
Five hours? Holy crap. “Where are we going?” I question, watching as the forest gets darker and darker and the road starts to look less like a road.
“To a cabin.” He stretches his neck out.
“Why can’t you just tell him he’s wrong?”
“Because I can’t, Madi.” He looks at me from the corner of his eyes. “If it were that simple, I would have done it by now.”
“Well, I need something else. Because nothing is making a lot of sense to me right now.”
He grins for the first time since I saw him yesterday, his trademark smirk coming across his lips. “Aren’t you used to it by now, though?”
Pulling up to a wide stretch of land, he drives the car up closer to the log cabin that overlooks the rest of the secluded forest.
“Who owns this place?” I ask, looking at how it’s a little on the richer scale to be classed as a cabin in the woods—which admittedly is what I was thinking. You know, the kind the serial killer drags you back to. But it’s not that at all. Even though it seems upscale, I can see how the gardens are overgrown, the vines snaking up the pillars that sit on each side of the front porch. Someone hasn’t been taking care of it.
“Me.” Bishop pushes open his door and gets out.
“What?” I gasp, slipping out of the passenger seat. I’m just about to ask him more, when multiple headlights light up the dark, misty night, waking Nate and Tillie in the back. I shut my door, rounding the car toward Bishop. His arm slips out, wrapping around my waist as he pulls me into him more. I cave, melt, or whatever you want to call it. It feels good after being in a car for hours on end, that’s for sure.
His hard chest is flush up against my back when I run my hand over his muscled forearm, as the rest of the boys pile out of their cars, carrying a variation of bags.
Bishop nudges his head. “I’ll unlock,” he calls out, stepping backward and taking his body heat with him. He takes my hand. “Come on.” Leading me up the front steps and unlocking the door, instantly, soft musk hits my senses, mixed with old pine and something sweet and… masculine? Bishop flicks on the lights, dropping the keys on the table beside the coat hanger.
Pinching my eyes closed briefly, I then take in the now bright area. “Wow. This is all yours?”