Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 52437 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52437 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
“Change of plans. Take me home,” I say.
“You sure? That friend of yours didn’t seem very stable.”
I look at Dave and frown. Why is he giving me advice? And who is he to judge anyone? I feel myself snapping.
“Dave, you have a good heart, but you’re also a fucking idiot who is too afraid of what other people think to be your own man and commit to what’s really important. And that’s your problem. It’s why you lost me and every woman since. Now shut up and drive me home.”
He stares for a long moment and then makes a U-turn to head back toward Mayburg.
I feel guilty for tearing into him, but he needed to hear it. Not because I had a vengeful bone to pick but because he’s been asking me for years. What’s wrong with me? Why do I fuck up my relationships? I always knew the answer but didn’t have the heart to tell him.
Now I do.
Because if I really care for him, even a little, he deserves the truth—something that’s been denied to me.
Truth is everything.
When we pull up to the mansion, nothing looks out of sorts, but I don’t see Master or Gabrio. It’s been four hours since we left. Are they still looking for the men? Did they find the keys? Did they go back to Monsterland?
Dave and I get out and unload my bags onto the sagging front porch of the main house. The three-story mansion isn’t what it used to be—dry rot around the old windows, weather-beaten front door, and peeling white paint everywhere, including the big pillars. I planned to fix it up and sell the place after Grandma died, but then Monsterland got in the way. Now that I know the truth about what’s inside, there’s no way I can let it fall into someone else’s hands. I’m stuck with it.
“Want help carrying your stuff inside?” Dave asks.
“Thanks, but I can take it from here. You should get going.” I know we have our history, but that doesn’t mean I want anything to happen to him. It’s not safe here.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to stick around?”
I turn and face him. “Yeah, I’m sure,” I say in the most reassuring tone I can muster. “And, Dave, I hope you find her—your special someone. I hope you find happiness.”
His brows shrug together. “I don’t understand. Is this goodbye?”
Even if I navigate through this mess, it’s time to cut ties. Dave needs to stop falling back on our relationship for comfort every time things go wrong with his latest romance. I’m like an old shoe to him. “Yes. It is.”
He stares into my eyes for a long moment. “Well, for the record, I don’t agree. You can’t just push me out of your life. We’ve been friends for a long time.”
What we have isn’t a friendship. It’s a dysfunctional mess. He worms his way back into my life, and I let him to avoid confrontation. “Dave, I mean it this time. Don’t run back to me when you cheat on—”
“You and I will always be connected, Lake. We’re like opposite sides of the coin.”
I agree that we’re opposites, but not that our connection is deep. “It’s time to put the past behind you. Enjoy your life.” Especially because our days could be numbered.
“I’ll come by next week to check on you.”
I roll my eyes. I don’t have time for this. I sling my new brown leather purse over my shoulder just as an ice-cold gust of wind hits me in the back. A hard shiver spikes through me, and a dust devil forms two feet away, picking up leaves and dirt. It swirls into a tight tube stretching into the air until it’s floating.
Suddenly it’s gone.
What the hell? I look around at the surrounding trees. Everything’s perfectly still. Something doesn’t feel right. Even our dirt’s gone crazy. Crazy dirt.
I look at Dave one last time. “Thanks for your help this morning. But don’t come back.” I head straight down the hill toward the barn behind Bard’s cottage. There’s a rifle and a shotgun in the cabinet there. Grandma Rain bought them for Bard to use for hunting, but he refused. That man only used primitive traps, bows and arrows, or his ax to kill stuff. Like a Wall Man would. Either way, Grandma taught me to shoot—target practice only. All part of “making an independent woman” out of me, I guess.
Well, look at me now. I’m skin and bones and wouldn’t be able to defend myself against a squirrel.
As I walk down the path that leads towards Bard’s place, my ears are on high alert, listening for crackles, footsteps, birds being startled, or anything else. There’s still no sign of Master or Gabrio. At least, not outside. No smell of roasting meat either.