Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
I cringe at the role I’ve played in her life since the auction, but when I turn to Taylor, she looks at me with the softest expression. “Thank you,” she whispers.
“What the hell for?”
“For helping me. For being good to me. For making me see that not all men are bad.”
Her words are supposed to be kind, but they only make me feel more ashamed. No woman should find themselves in Taylor’s situation.
When we get to Molly, we have to let Taylor know that we won’t hold her to the marriage or role in our household and lives. It wasn’t her choice to enter the auction, so we should give her a choice now. My heart aches at the prospect of losing her but shackling her to us is so deeply wrong. If you love somebody, set them free. We need to do that for Taylor, no matter how much it might hurt.
It’s almost seven pm by the time we enter Taylor’s hometown. She sits forward in her seat to direct Clint to her friend, Natalie’s, house. Squinting into the fading glare of the evening sun, she strains to find road names and landmarks.
“Take the next turning on the right,” she says, gripping the back of Jesse’s seat. “And then the first left.”
Clint follows her instructions. “It’s down here on the right—” She pauses, her eyes fixed ahead.
“Oh no—”
There’s a man on the sidewalk, picking something up from the ground. He tosses it at the house. When we get closer, it’s clear that he’s tossing rocks at a house.
“Is that your…?”
“Father.” Her hand is already on the door handle, but I grab her arm.
“You’re not going out there, Taylor. Leave this to us.”
Clint parks twenty feet up the road and the three of us are out of the vehicle in seconds, running towards Taylor’s deranged parent.
“Hey,” Jesse yells. “What the hell are you doing?”
The man turns with a large rock from the garden still clutched in his hand. “Who the fuck are you?”
He’s a grimy mess with a wild and feral look in his hollow eyes and his thinning hair hanging in loose matted strands. Malnourished and unsavory, he strains to stay upright as if he has already had a few drinks. And then the stench hits me. He sneers as he casts his hazy gaze between us, revealing a mouth of decaying teeth. His sunken cheeks make him look much older than his years, but the aggression radiating from every inch of him is no match for the rage and fury inside all of us. This sack of shit is Taylor’s father?
Jesse’s fist in the man’s face is the only appropriate response. The man’s head twists violently, and he drops to the floor, knees first, then shoulder, then head. It’s a hollow sound, like a watermelon smashing.
Feet pound the sidewalk behind us, and I turn to find Taylor running.
“Where’s Molly?” she gasps, running towards the home that must be Natalie’s. She bangs on the door before I can reach her, yelling “Molly. Natalie. It’s okay. Open up.”
A woman’s voice sounds from inside. “Taylor?”
“Yes.”
“Taylor. Be careful. Your father—”
“It’s okay, Natalie. Open up.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. They’ve got him on the ground.”
When I get closer, the damage to the front door comes into view. Jesus. The wood is splintered in places, and the paint is chipped. Rocks litter the front step. Taylor’s father was riled up enough to do some serious damage.
The door opens just a crack, with a security chain preventing it from opening fully. A young woman’s face appears. “Taylor?”
“Natalie.”
Her eyes flick to me, and Taylor turns. “Don’t worry. This is Maverick. He’s a good guy.”
A good guy.
But I’m not, am I? Not good enough for her.
Natalie swipes the chain aside and opens the door. “We were so scared.” She falls into Taylor’s embrace, and the two women clasp each other tightly. Behind Natalie, a skinny girl of around thirteen or fourteen stands with her arms wrapped around herself. Her face is red and blotchy, and tears have left damp, salty streaks down her cheeks. Her hair is the same color as Taylor’s but hangs in stringy clumps around her too-skinny face. Taylor draws quickly away from Natalie and reaches for her sister, enveloping her in her arms. “Molly.”
The embrace is so fierce and intense I look away to give them privacy and so emotion won’t clog my throat.
At the roadside, Jesse spits on Taylor’s father, who’s still unconscious. “This piece of shit,” he growls at Clint. “This asshole used his daughters like they were his fucking possessions.” It’s not like him to swear, but I get why he feels the need to do it now.
“What are we going to do with him?”
“Call the police,” Jesse barks.
“Okay.” Clint pulls out his phone and wanders further away from the house to handle the conversation that Taylor and Molly should be protected from.