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)
Jackson leans in and says something to Elizabeth, and she smiles at him and grabs his arm. I watch her the entire time while Rebecca stitches me up.
The ease she now has, compared to six months ago, is extraordinary. The way she’s blossomed is something to behold. Her confidence radiates in every smile and gesture, reflecting a newfound strength. Watching her transformation into this vibrant, self-assured person has been a journey. A damn good one!
“You’re staring really hard at her,” Rebecca says quietly. I glance down at her as she finishes up. “There you go, all patched up.” She smiles. “I won’t tell our dad about this either.” I raise a brow at her.
“We have to go, but it was good to meet you all,” Jackson says. I nod to him, and he does the same back. They hug Elizabeth before they leave, and then she turns to me.
“We’re leaving,” I announce.
Chapter 41
Lissie
“I hate goodbyes with you.”
Milo hoists his bag, slightly grimacing as he clutches his side. His wound seems forgotten as he moves with determination, ignoring the pain etched in his features. It’s like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
“I shouldn’t have come,” he states, guilt lacing his tone. His shoulders slump as if the weight of regret is pressing down on him.
“They don’t know who Lissie is or where she lives?” Mason asks Milo for the second time since he announced they were leaving.
“No, I made sure,” Milo replies.
I bite my nails as I stand there, my nerves getting the better of me. Letti wraps me in a warm hug, whispering goodbye. Mason steps forward, his expression serious, instructing me to call if I notice anything suspicious. And then there’s Milo, lingering at the edge of the group, his eyes searching mine as if he’s trying to say something but can’t quite put it into words.
“Bye, Lissie,” Letti says, hugging me extra tight before she and Mason walk out.
“Are you okay?” I ask Milo.
He keeps his distance from me. “Yes.”
I rub my hands together to stop myself from biting my nails, my anxiety building. “Will I see you again?” I ask, my voice trembling slightly as hope invades my words. My eyes search his face for any sign of reassurance, my heart aching for a positive answer.
“No. I won’t visit again,” he says bluntly, his words cutting the air. “But you know where I live.” With that, he turns on his heel and walks out the door without a touch or backward glance. A small part of my heart chips away, leaving an aching voice in its place.
No goodbye.
No, I’ll check in on you.
Does he blame himself?
I don’t blame him.
I know who he is, and a small part of me knows the dangers that being around him could bring.
Yet I choose to see him anyway.
I stand there as he walks out, taking a piece of me with him.
And I’m left wondering, What did he want to tell me?
A few weeks later, with absolutely no contact from Milo, I received a message from the lawyer saying I needed to go back to finalize the divorce paperwork. Apparently, Cody is ready to sign.
Honestly, I thought that would never happen. I haven’t heard from or seen him in months. Not that I was hoping for either of those things to happen.
“You shouldn’t be here.” I turn at the sound of that voice.
Milo stands there, dressed in his leather jacket, boots that could probably kick down a tree, and black jeans that make you want to tear them off to see what’s underneath.
But I already know.
How did I not hear him approach?
“I’m here for business,” I tell him, hugging myself and looking back to the house that I shared with Cody.
“He signed the papers,” he states.
“Yep.”
“Good. No other reason for you to come back, then.” I flinch at his words, and he moves until he’s standing next to me. I peer at him from the corner of my eye because it’s too damn painful to look at him directly.
“You never want to see me again?”
“No. You can leave anytime. The sooner, the better.” I don’t outwardly react to his statement, but inside, a new slice appears in my heart, a sharp pain that lingers. The coldness of his words echo in my mind, each syllable deepening the wounds in my heart. My face remains stoic, but my cheek tightens as I struggle to keep my composure, the hurt threatening to consume me.
He doesn’t say anything else before he turns and heads down the driveway. I see his bike parked on the side of the road. He sits on it, starts the engine, and puts his helmet on. Not once does he look back at me. I pick up a rock and run a little way down the driveway before I throw it at him. He was just about to take off, but he stops, flips the kickstand down with his boot, and then tears off his helmet to glare at me.