Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73191 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73191 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
I pull my cell out and send Lissie a picture of the inside of the book that I will not be returning, and when she replies, something inside of me eases, knowing that her fuck of a husband hasn’t found her.
I miss you too, is the message she sends back.
“I take it that’s Lissie,” Morris says. I sit on my bike and slide my cell back into my pocket. “I like her, man, but Cody would already be dead if it weren’t for her.”
He’s right.
I know he is.
So now it’s time to stop playing with emotions and get my fucking work done.
“You know, it leads to others thinking they can have the same treatment,” Morris adds.
“I know,” is all I say.
And I do.
Chapter 36
Lissie
Six months later…
Ihaven’t been back to my hometown.
And I don’t intend to go back anytime soon.
Letti is due to arrive any minute, and Mason and Milo will be with her. I have a small apartment with two bedrooms, though I haven’t fully furnished the spare room yet. So I went out and bought a bed for it, now that I have friends coming. That feels weird to say in my head. I’m not used to having close friends, but Letti is exactly that—my closest friend—and I hope she’ll meet my sister and brother, who I have hung out with regularly. My father, who I am not comfortable calling “Dad” just yet, has been trying, and his wife is actually the sweetest lady ever. Her kids are proof of what a great human she is by how kind they are. Rebecca looks a little like me, whereas Jackson looks exactly like their mother. It’s been nice getting to know them. I didn’t realize I missed having a family until I finally had one.
There’s a knock on the door, and I startle. I take a moment to calm myself down and then go answer it. I’m tired. I’ve been working at a local bar for the last few months. I fix a smile on my face, take a deep breath, and grip the doorknob. When I pull the door open, arms surround me, and Letti tackles me in a hug before I can even say a word.
“Oh my gosh, I almost died,” she says dramatically.
“You did not,” Mason says, stepping past us. “Hey, Lissie.” He nods, holding her bag.
“What happened?” I ask.
“Turbulence,” mutters Milo, standing back, hesitating.
“The worst,” Letti adds.
“Yeah, so bad that she dumped her steaming hot coffee over us,” adds Mason from behind me as he places the bags down.
“Is anyone hurt?” I ask, hugging her tighter.
Letti pulls back and huffs. “Who cares about them, it’s me who’s hurt. Milo had the window seat and would joke about a bird flying into the thingy that flies the plane on the side.” She waves her hand around, then steps out of my view so I’m now facing Milo.
“You can come in,” I say, opening the door wider in invitation.
He looks me up and down. It’s then I realize I forgot to change out of my work clothes. I’m dressed in a pencil skirt, with stockings that have a pinstripe at the back, and a black blouse that is partly unbuttoned. My hair is tied up in a tight bun on the top of my head. The bar where I work is high class, and we are required to dress in the proper attire. His gaze falls to my heels, and the corner of his lips lifts in a smirk.
“Nice heels.”
I lift one slightly toward him.
“Told you I had a pair.” I grin at him. We’ve kept in contact in the months I’ve been gone, but it got less and less as we got busier and busier. But I still see him every night when I close my eyes.
“I see that.” He finally steps inside, and I shut the door behind him.
“You two can have the spare room. Sorry, it’s small.” I open the wooden door to the second bedroom. “New sheets and mattress. Hopefully, it’s comfortable,” I say as Letti and Mason walk in.
“This is really cute, Lissie. You decorated it all yourself?” she asks, looking around.
“I did,” I say, pride lacing my words.
I leave them to it and find Milo wandering around. He stops at some photos on the wall. One is of me and Letti from our trip to Thailand. All the rest are photos I took when I traveled to other places like Japan and Indonesia.
“I have two options for you,” I tell him, and he turns to me.
He’s dressed in black jeans and a dark gray shirt that showcases his beautiful muscles, and it’s weird not to see him in his leathers, but it’s refreshing all the same.
“Options?” He raises a brow, and his lips lift, his scar moving with it. “Interesting,” he mutters.
“I have this couch, though I can say from experience it’s not all that comfortable.” He glances at it, then back to me.