Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 137324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
She blows out a breath and seems to calm a few degrees. “I feel better. Like, I finally, fully closed this chapter and can move forward.” She peers up at me with clear, serious eyes. “In a sick way, I’m glad I came. But now I’m done with the past.”
I don’t have the heart to remind her, even when we think we’re done with the past, the past isn’t always finished with us. Emily knows that better than anyone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Emily
Finally, I’m able to take a deep breath and pull myself together. My gaze darts around the prison parking lot. Unease crawls over me. Like we’re being watched.
We’re outside a prison, they probably have security cameras all over the place.
“Can we go?” I ask.
“Yup.” He curls a protective arm around me and guides me toward the truck. “Let’s not waste another second here.”
He opens the door and helps me in. I stare out the window at the prison. Can Zach see me from one of those tiny windows? Would he bother looking? Does he feel better now that he told me the truth?
We’re on the road headed home when Dex reaches over and rests his hand on my leg. “Do you want to talk about it?”
I sigh and try to organize my thoughts. “It was so strange.” I spill the whole story—well, Zach’s version of it. Dex listens and only asks questions to clarify something or prompt me when I drift into silence.
“If he’s telling the truth, then my dad wasn’t a bad guy. I spent years being so mad at him for getting my mother and himself killed, traumatizing Libby…”
“That’s not your fault,” he says with the weight of conviction in his voice.
“It could be lies, anyway.”
He blows out a breath. “To be honest, I never thought the first story you told me made sense. This actually makes more sense.”
See, Dex didn’t even know my dad and he thought it was a fishy story. “What’s wrong with me that I believed my dad was a crook?”
“Nothing’s wrong with you. At all. As someone who’s…spent time around criminals, it seemed really dumb for these guys to break into the house of a dirty cop. To risk involving the family…I mean, it’s possible he is just that stupid, but getting assurances from your dad’s partner? That makes more sense to me.” He squeezes my leg. “It sounds like your parents did everything possible to protect Libby. It’s not your fault or your dad’s fault.”
“Thanks,” I whisper. His words settle into with startling awareness. For the first time I think I really believe there was nothing I could’ve done to change what happened.
As I predicted, I’m totally drained by the time we arrive at my house.
“Why don’t you go upstairs and take a nap?” Dex suggests.
“No.” I glance at my phone. “It’s almost time to pick up Libby.”
“I’ll pick her up. Come on.” He nudges me toward the staircase and follows me up to my room. “Let’s get this off.” He tugs at the hem of my shirt. Not in a let’s get naked way, but a loving, caretaking way.
“What do you want to sleep in?” he asks.
“A tank top is fine.” I point to my dresser. “Third drawer.”
I roll my pants down and kick them off. Then peel off my bra and drop it on top of the pile. I want to burn everything I wore today.
“The top drawer is empty. For you.” Why do I sound about five years old?
He turns to me with a smile. “Yeah?” He shakes out a soft green racerback tank top. “What do you want me to put in that drawer?”
“Anything you’d like to have when you’re here.”
“Arms up.” He guides me into the long, flowing top, letting out a short groan of approval as it settles over my shoulders. “That’s it. Into bed, firecracker.”
I settle against my pillows, and he pulls the covers up to my waist. Behind me there’s a rustle and clinking. A few seconds later, the bed dips. There’s a click and squelch. The familiar lavender and chamomile scent of the lotion I usually use before bed fills my nose.
“Is that my night-night lotion?” I murmur.
“Yup.” He slides his warm, slick hand over my shoulder, then down my arm, rubbing it into my skin. The covers shift and he lifts the back of my shirt, lightly sweeping his hand over the parts of my back he can reach. “Want you to rest a bit,” he says. “Thought it might help.”
“It does,” I whisper.
“Come here.” He pulls me into his arms and kisses my temple.
“Mmm. This is nice.”
“I set my alarm in case I fall asleep with you,” he murmurs, brushing my hair off my neck. “You rest. Don’t worry about anything. I’ll get Libby when it’s time.”
“Okay,” I whisper.
Safety surrounds me, allowing me to fall into the deep, peaceful well of sleep.