Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 71476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
“Stop! What’s going on?!?!” I jerk up as Rory screams from her door.
The minute I do the asshole pushes against me and scoots away on his ass.
That’s when I look around and see there’s a crowd of people around us. It’s Rory my attention comes back to.
“Tony?” she asks her face going white.
White with fear.
It’s then I remember the conversation I had with Rory. I don’t know why I didn’t before, probably because seeing him like he was and hearing him say he was her husband burned in my gut. It felt like jealousy and that fucking pissed me off too. But now I remember. I remember her words.
“It’s not the hitting that sticks with you, you know.”
Motherfucker, I should have hit him harder and I probably would have, except that’s when the sirens get into range. I hear them and I know that whatever is going on, I’m going to be in jail.
“How did you find me?” she asks, her voice pale.
“You applied for a teaching job, Birdie. You had to know they would follow your references.”
At the use of his nickname, Rory stops going white, she looks almost green and I see her body tremble in a way that I don’t like.
“I applied for an assistant position, I didn’t think they would check for anything I didn’t put on the paper,” she whispers—almost to herself. “I’m so stupid.”
“You always were, Birdie,” the fucker says, his words labored because of the pain I delivered—but obviously not enough. “But it doesn’t matter. Your brother is willing to forgive you. It’s time to come home.”
“I’m not coming back,” she says, her voice still quiet, but firm. “I’m never coming back!”
“You’re such a stupid cunt, do you really think you have a choice—”
He doesn’t get any further. I saw how Rory blanched at his words. I didn’t like them, but seeing her reaction—I really didn’t like them. They bring her words back to me again and this time they sucker punch me.
“It’s not the hitting that sticks with you, you know.”
I’m done. I go back after the motherfucker and I don’t stop this time. He gets some hits in and some were damn hard, but I don’t let up. I’m still going after him, even as the cops pull me off of him. I’m still trying even as they place the cuffs over my wrists and the paramedics start working on the sack of shit because he can’t walk.
The only time I stop is when they put me in the back of the police cruiser. It starts to rain and I look through the glass of my window, the rain making tracks on it and blurring Rory’s face from my view. All I can see is her glorious head of auburn hair and her hands moving as she tries to talk to the cop. Maybe she’s trying to talk him out of arresting me, maybe she’s asking him to take us both away. I don’t know.
These are consequences.
I should regret them, but I know if that motherfucker was still in front of me, my hands might be cuffed behind my back, but I’d still be kicking the shit out of him.
20
Rory
“Rory, I’m sorry, but I can’t give you Ryan.”
“But you know me, Mrs. Slater. You’re the one that told me to put in for the assistant job.”
“Be that as it may, Mr. Cross left strict instructions with me concerning the child.”
“Mr. Cross?” I ask confused.
“Ryan’s father,” she explains. “Westin Cross. Are you saying you’re here to pick his child up and you don’t even know his name?” Mrs. Slater asks, her eyes narrowing on me.
“I’m his neighbor, not his mother. It’s not come up,” I explain my voice tight. I am willing to beg for the little boy, but my patience has snapped. I just saw my fucking ex. It wasn’t a man I ever wanted to see again. I got hit with the knowledge that my brother now knows where I am and I’m kind of on emotional overload. “I’m telling you his father can’t be here to pick him up, and I’m telling you that as in there’s no way he can be here. The only reason I am here, is because I know this and I don’t want Ryan to freak out while his father is seeing to things that need seen to,” I explain, my words clipped.
I’m wringing my hands together in an effort not to leap over the desk and wrap them around Mrs. Slater’s neck, demanding she give me the child. I need to get this done. I need to get Ryan and take him to Noah. Then I need to run home and throw my shit in a suitcase and get the hell out of dodge. That’s all I’m thinking about—that’s all I can think about.