Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 81994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
I stand and go to the window to make sure he’s gone before I go downstairs. I need my phone out of my bag, and I left my purse in my car last night when I came home. I pull on a pair of shorts and leave my room. I turn off the alarm before opening the front door. The second I hit the front porch, a silver convertible pulls up. I squint my eyes, trying to see who it is, and when I recognize the driver, I run to my car, open my door, quickly grab my bag, and run back to the front porch.
“Do you ever wear clothes?” Kenton’s ex, Cassie, yells.
I want to tell her no, but instead, I run into the house, dropping my bag next to the door. I almost have the door closed when it’s pushed open and Cassie grabs a handful of my hair.
I have never been in a fight in my life. I have been beaten many times, but I’ve never fought back, knowing that the consequences would be a lot worse if I did. My body freezes, and then my adrenaline surges. I turn around and smack her across her face. Her hand goes to her cheek, and her eyes widened then narrow.
“You bitch,” she says, smacking me back a lot harder than I hit her.
“I’m a bitch?” I shake my head in disbelief. “Get out of this house right now,” I say with a scary calmness, holding my stinging cheek. I’m too old for this crap.
“How does it feel knowing you’re sleeping in a bed I picked out…that I fucked him in?”
Okay, so that didn’t feel good, but I keep my face neutral, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of knowing that her words affected me. “Get the fuck out,” I tell her, leaning forward and pointing at the door.
“You’re sleeping in my bed with my man and you want me to get out?” She lets out a laugh then looks me over.
“He’s not yours,” I hiss.
“He will always want me!” she shrieks. “Why do you think he hasn’t changed the bed or redecorated?”
Wow, this chick is crazy, but her telling me about her and Kenton in that bed over and over again is grating my nerves. I turn and run up the stairs as fast as I can. I hear her following me, but I’m on a mission.
I run to Kenton’s room, locking the door behind me. My eyes land on the bed, which is still messy from this morning. I look around and see that he has a large sliding glass door in his room that leads out onto the upper balcony. Cassie starts pounding on the door, and I quickly look at it before running to the bed to toss the covers, sheets, and pillows onto the floor.
The bed is queen-sized, so even with the weight of the mattress, I’m still able to pull it off the bed, pushing it to the side. I see that the side rails hook into the headboard and the slats are what keeps the mattress up, so I toss the slats aside then pull up on the side pieces. The bed falls apart, the footboard falling to the floor and the headboard hitting the wall.
I go to the foot of the bed and pick up the wooden piece, carrying it over to the balcony. I open the sliding glass door and haul the footboard over to the railing. Seeing Cassie’s car parked right under me, I say, “Fuck it,” and toss it over. It lands in her back seat, making me smile. I do the same with the two side rails; these miss and land near her car on the ground.
Cassie has no idea what’s going on; she is still pounding on the bedroom door. I go to the headboard, and with this piece being much heavier, I scoot it across the hardwood floors and out onto the balcony. I lift it over the railing, where it teeters before falling over the other side; the loud crunching sound of glass and metal soothes my temper.
I hear Cassie yell something as she leaves the door. I quickly get the mattress, pushing it out onto the balcony before tossing it over the edge too. With my adrenaline pumping like never before, I look down and watch as it floats like a feather in slow motion, landing with a little bounce on the hood of her car.
Cassie starts screaming at the top of her lungs then pulls her phone out of her pocket.
“Shit,” I whisper. I know she’s calling the cops. I start wondering where I should hide when the house phone starts ringing. I see the phone on the nightstand light up, and I debate if I should answer it or not when it stops ringing only to start up again. My gut clenches, and I know without a doubt that it’s Kenton calling.