Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94720 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94720 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
“Grab onto something.” He said it with such displeasure that I wasn’t sure he was talking to me until he turned those cold blue eyes on me. A shiver went down my spine. What the hell was wrong with him? “Grab onto something,” he gritted out, jaw tensing.
I grabbed the first thing I could reach: the post of the stairs. He pushed a button. There was a whirring sound, like a loud air conditioner, and the entire house was moving suddenly. My eyes widened as I looked around. It was like being in an elevator, like the freaking Bat Cave. A few things clattered where I assumed the kitchen was, but everything else seemed to stay intact. The house did a little rock when we stopped moving, and the whirring sound ceased. Rocco pushed off the wall and started walking further into the house as if that was normal.
“What the hell?” I said, following him as he checked the thermostat. He ignored me. I followed him into the kitchen, which was also completely sleek and dark. He looked in the cabinets, opened a door that I assumed was the pantry, and kept moving around to ensure everything was intact. He was pissing me off.
“ROCCO.”
“What?” He was moving things around in the fridge, still ignoring me.
“Can you please look at me?” I asked, my voice breaking a little with the plea. I hated how I sounded, but I was confused, tired, and scared, and I didn’t know what I’d done to deserve his ire.
He shut the fridge and turned to me. “What?”
I swallowed. “What just happened? Are we underground?”
“Yes.” He searched my face, and for a second, I thought maybe his anger had dissipated, but his eyes were still cold, and his expression was still blank even as he studied me. “It’s one of our safe houses. The safest since it’s underground, and no one would know to look for it.”
“What about the car?”
“No one comes out here. It’s private property, but if they do, it’s just a car parked in the middle of nowhere.” He stepped away from the fridge. “Help yourself to whatever you want. I’m going to set the bags upstairs.”
It was the most he’d said to me, and even though he sounded more like a drill sergeant, I was glad he was speaking. He walked out and left me staring. I didn’t need Emmaline to school me on mercurial men. I’d grown up with a father and two brothers who lost their shit in a blink. I usually just gave them space until they’d calmed down. Something about Rocco’s mood told me he wouldn’t calm down, though, and of course, I wanted to be the one to pull him from the darkness that had taken hold of him. Instead, I gave him space. I made two sandwiches, ate one, and left the other for him. I cleaned up the kitchen and walked around the first story.
Abstract art decorated the walls, and it felt homey enough that we could stay there for months. I crossed my arms to fight a shiver at that thought. I’d never been claustrophobic, but the thought of being down here for that amount of time made me uncomfortable. There was a guest room with a bed and a bathroom but no frills. I spotted a small plaque on the wall and walked over to it. Phil’s Bunker — est 1957. So, it had been a bunker at some point. I’d always pictured underground bunkers looking like someone’s garage but with canned foods. This was not that.
Despite my nervousness, I still managed to drag my feet upstairs. My bag was peeking out of the first room to the right. Two other doors were open, both bedrooms, and the fourth one was closed — presumably where Rocco would be staying. I was afraid to turn the knob and find it locked, so I went to my assigned room and shut the door before I showered and changed into my pajamas — loose black shorts and one of Gabe’s old Yale sweatshirts that fit me like a dress. I got into bed and turned on the television, flipping through channels to distract myself from thinking about what Rocco was doing in the room next door. Since I no longer had a phone, I depended on the clock next to the bed.
I had fallen asleep, only to wake up again at 3:30 in the morning. I went to the bathroom. I was brushing my teeth, washing my face, and applying lotion. I eyed the adjacent door, a Jack and Jill style, which Rocco had yet to use. It had been locked from the other side. I shut off the lights and contemplated getting back into bed, but instead, I went to search for him. Regardless of the response I got, I needed him to know that I was there for him. I turned the handle of his room, and it opened. The TV was on, and he sat shirtless on the bed with covers over his middle, holding a phone in his hand. When he saw me, he lowered his phone and looked at me.