Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 79438 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79438 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Taking a deep breath, my gaze flicks over his apartment before resting on him again. “I understand Saturday night was a shock to you. I would never have taken you there if I’d known my father was the judge who let Dylan’s killer walk free. Honestly, I didn’t know about it until the party.”
My voice trembles so much I have to pause to breathe through the intense emotions in my chest.
I can’t help but drink in the sight of Callan. I still love him even though he’s hurt me.
God, this is hard.
I take another breath, but suddenly, the urge to cry hits. “Did you even send me a message, or were you just going to ghost me?”
A frown line forms on his face. “What are you talking about?”
“I spoke to Harper.” I almost try to cross my arms again, but instead, I wrap my left arm around my middle. “She told me you ended things between us, and I should leave you alone.”
He shakes his head hard and takes a step forward. “What the hell are you talking about?” He gives me an incredulous look, his eyes shining brighter than the stars. “You ended our relationship.”
I blink at him for a moment before I shake my head as well. “No, I didn’t.”
“Christ, Lillian,” he snaps. “What do you call all the messages you sent me?” Raising an eyebrow at me, his tone is tight with the pain that’s etched into his face as he says, “You made it clear you never want to see me again.”
Frowning at him, I argue, “The only messages I sent you were begging you to tell me you’re okay. You…”
Oh God.
My hand flies to my mouth as I realize what must’ve happened, then I ask, “What did the messages say?”
Absolute heartache tightens his features. “That you can’t be with a volatile man, and you’ll never forgive me.”
Oh my God.
I can’t believe my parents went that far.
They’re monsters.
Chapter 37
Callan
Christ. Lily’s here, and she’s talking to me.
It’s hard not to get my hopes up as I stare at her beautiful face.
Her skin grows pale as she whispers, “I didn’t send those messages.”
Her words send ripples of shock cascading through my body.
She places a hand over her heart and clutches hold of her shirt. “My father took my phone on Saturday night. In the last message I sent you, I asked if you were safe.”
Fuck.
“You didn’t send any messages after Saturday night?” I ask to make sure I understand.
“No.” Her tongue darts out to wet her lips, her eyes huge with uncertainty and heartache.
Jesus Christ.
“You didn’t break up with me?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “No. I thought you broke up with me.” She gestures to the empty space between us. “I came over to…ah…fight.” A hollow chuckle escapes her. “Which feels pretty pointless right now.”
Needing to know what’s happening, I ask, “Just to be clear, neither of us ended the relationship?”
She gives me an unsure look. “It depends on you. I never wanted to end things.”
Hope threatens to overwhelm me. “I don’t want to end things between us.”
Her eyebrows pull together, and her chin begins to quiver. Her voice sounds unbearably fragile as she asks, “You still want to be with me?”
Darting forward, I yank her into my arms and squash her against my chest. With my mouth in her hair, I say, “Yes. I want to be with you.”
A sob bursts from her, and she wraps her left arm around my lower back. “Oh God,” she cries. “I…I…I.”
Lily’s body slumps against mine, and if it weren’t for the cries shuddering from her, I’d think she passed out. Pushing an arm beneath her knees, I pick her up bridal style and carry her to the living room.
I set her down on the couch, and crouching by her knees, I take in her distraught state. She struggles to get air into her lungs, and recognizing the signs of a panic attack, I frame her face with my hands and force her to look at me.
“Count with me, Lily. One hundred. Ninety-seven. Ninety-four. Ninety-one. Eighty-eight.”
Her voice is hoarse and shaky as she sputters her way through the numbers.
Her breathing begins to slow down, and it has me saying, “Take a deep breath, baby.”
When she’s calmer, I quickly get up and rush to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water for her. I also dart into the guest restroom and swipe the box of Kleenex from the counter.
Heading back to the living room, I set the Kleenex down on Lily’s lap before opening the bottle of water for her.
“Drink some, baby.”
She reaches for the bottle with her right hand but stops and switches to using her left hand.
My eyes lock on her bruised wrist, and seeing the swelling, I ask, “What happened to your wrist?”
She drinks some water, then sets the bottle down on the table before grabbing a tissue to wipe the tears from her face.