Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
“Yeah, I know. I was there about twenty minutes ago,” I cut him off. “I’m in a cab. On the way to the summer home,” I said.
“He has a summer home?”
“No, but his mom does.”
“Fuck. Okay. Baby, you need to pull over and wait for me,” he said, and I could hear him running, likely making his way back out toward his car, ready to jump on the road to come to me.
“I can’t do that. I can’t waste any more time. You know what could be…happening,” I said, choosing my words carefully, acutely aware of the driver just a couple inches away from me.
“Baby, not trying to sound like a dick here, but what are you going to be able to do about it?” he asked.
That was a fair question.
I didn’t have my gun.
That was still—hopefully—tucked in a box in my closet at my apartment. All I had on me was an eye-gouger and some mace.
“It’s harder to fight off two of us than it is one,” I reasoned, keeping my voice low.
“He could hurt you both. He could kill you both,” Salvatore said, tone tight. “I can’t let that happen.”
“Well, I can’t let anything happen to her,” I said, shrugging. “You would do the same.”
“It’s different.”
I didn’t bother to argue with him on that, to say his comment was sexist, or whatever else might have come to mind. Because the fact of the matter was, he was right.
It was different.
Salvatore was bigger. He was stronger. He had a history of taking care of himself. And, as always, he had a weapon on him.
Salvatore absolutely stood a good chance against someone like Josh, no matter how deranged Josh might be at the moment.
It didn’t matter to me, though, if I got hurt or killed in the process. I had to get Wren free. She’d just barely gotten her first taste of freedom and happiness, and the promise of a man who wouldn’t hurt her.
“I have to do this,” I told him, tone half-apologetic, knowing Salvatore well enough at this point to know he would feel responsible for any hurt I came to.
“I know you do, baby,” he said, tone sadder than I’d ever heard it. “But I’m on my way, okay? Keep that in mind. You just need to bide time, not be a hero. Give me the address.”
I rattled it off, feeling a bit of an ache in my chest at the idea that I might not get to see him again, that my first twinges of happiness cut be cut short.
“Whit?” Salvatore called as I started out the window at the darkened world outside, wondering what was going through my sister’s mind right then.
I prayed she knew that I would come for her.
I always came for her.
“Yeah?” I asked.
“Don’t take any unnecessary risks, okay?” he asked.
“I can’t make any promises,” I told him honestly.
“I can’t fucking lose you,” he said, voice rough.
I’d been right there, teetering on the edge, afraid to fall, terrified of the crash at the bottom.
But right then, with his voice telling me that he didn’t want to lose me?
Yeah.
I fell.
Hard.
Tears, useless at that moment, flooded my eyes. And no amount of blinking made them go away.
“Just so you know, just in case, I’ve been happier with you than I think I’ve ever been.”
“Fuck, baby, don’t talk like that,” he demanded, voice wrecked. “That sounds too much like goodbye.”
“Hopefully just for now,” I said, ending the call and turning off my ringer.
It was too much.
I was too fragile right then.
And I needed not to be thinking about myself and my situation. I had to be thinking about Wren and what was happening to her.
Tossing my phone in my purse, I pressed my forehead to the cool glass, trying to clear my mind of anything related to Salvatore—a task that was harder than I could have anticipated as I pictured him hearing the call end, tossing his phone to the passenger seat, letting out a savage curse, and pressing the pedal to the floor.
Trying to force the thoughts away was impossible, so I worked on replacing them instead.
With every single late-night phone call with my sisters hysterical voice on the other end. With every session of sitting in my bathroom trying to clean her up, reassuring her all the while that it wasn’t her fault, that it didn’t matter what she may have said or done to Josh, that it never gave him the right to put his hands on her. With the times she’d managed to call me early, so I was able to rush over there, witnessing the violence with my own two eyes. With all the times he’d conned her into coming back as I waited on bated breath for that inevitable phone call again.
Rage, old and familiar, bubbled up with each passing mile, until it felt like lava surging through my system, ready to pour out and destroy any and everything in its path.