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)
“What are you going to do about Nora?” Loren asked, as if reading my thoughts.
“Nothing.” I inhaled and exhaled. “The question is, what is she going to do about me?”
That was the truth. I’d give her some time to grieve before going to her. If she told me she never wanted to see me again, I’d respect her decision. It would kill me slowly, but I loved her too much to force something she didn’t want. After her father calling me a monster and telling me I was just like him, maybe walking away would be the smartest choice.
42
LENORA
I opened my eyes in a dark room but didn’t move. I kept my nose buried in Rocco’s pillow, wishing it was him instead. He’d been gone a long time. I didn’t want to dwell too much on what he was doing. Was he torturing Dad? Had he already killed him? Did it even fucking matter? I kept replaying what happened at the church and at his penthouse. I’d been so angry about it, but now I was just sad. I felt so stupid for ever thinking of my father as anything other than a monster. At the sound of movement, I sat up slowly. Rocco was sitting in the chair in the corner of his room. It was dark so I couldn’t really see him, but I knew it was him. I felt him. He didn’t move after I sat up, and I wondered if he’d fallen asleep in that chair, then wondered why he hadn’t come to bed with me.
“Hey,” I said, but my voice was a whisper, still gone from all the screaming.
“Hey.”
“What time is it?”
“4:40.”
I blinked. “Did you just get home?”
“No, I’ve been here a while.”
His words were flat. I hated not being able to see his face.
“Do you want me to leave?” I asked, biting the inside of my cheek to brace myself for the answer.
“Of course not.” He sighed. “I thought you might have when Gabe left.”
“I wanted to stay.” I swallowed. “I hope that’s okay.”
He let out an unamused laugh. Sadness instantly consumed me, but I kept going. I’d walked through life with my head down and my words held back. I’d never done that with him, though. Because he never judged me or treated me like I was made of porcelain.
“Do you not want to come to bed with me?” I asked. “It’s okay if you don’t.”
Again I was met with silence, but then he spoke. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Oh.” I bit my lip and wiped the tears from my face. “Okay.”
How many tears could one person shed? How much heartbreak could one person endure? Neither of us said anything. I pretended to go back to sleep but was wide awake when he left the room, finally, after what felt like an eternity. When Nico came to pick us up earlier and I told him I wasn’t going, he provided me with a brand new phone that I assumed my brother sent. He’d already set it up and added some contacts in it for me. It was six in the morning when I finally decided I could no longer stay in his bed. I had another shower and changed again. Rosie had sent me clothes, so I wore the bottoms, but I borrowed a hoodie from Rocco’s closet. It was huge on me, but I wanted to have something of his.
He’d said so little to me last night, but I read his silence. It was over between us. I swallowed back tears. The rest of the time I’d stayed in bed, I’d been crying quietly. When he left, I just let myself cry. In the shower, I’d cried again. And now, thinking about it, I wanted to cry some more. I’d try not to. One look in the mirror told me I shouldn’t. My entire face was swollen. My arms had imprints from where my father had held me down. Bruises covered my neck from when he tried to choke me. As all of the images accompanying each bruise hit me, I began to cry again.
By the time I made it downstairs and to the kitchen, I was finally all cried out. Michael looked freshly showered and dressed. He was leaning against the counter, reading a newspaper. When he felt my presence, he looked up and his eyes — so much like his brother's — held a look of compassion as he took me in.
“Is he. . .”
“He’s not here.”
I bit the inside of my mouth and looked away. Fuck. I couldn’t keep crying.
“I’ll take you to your parents’ penthouse. Your mother should be there by the time we get there.”
I nodded, biting my cheek, unable to look at him. “I’m ready to go when you are.”
He pushed off the counter. “You sure you don’t want coffee? Tea?”