Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 75193 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75193 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Then, without another thought, I started gathering everything that reminded me of her.
Everything.
Once I was done, I walked into the kitchen, grabbed a black trash bag from under the sink, and went back to my room where I proceeded to throw Aerie away.
Everything that she was, memorialized for the last five years, gone in a matter of minutes.
Once I was done, I looked around at the bare room, my heart beating a frantic tattoo against my ribs.
But as I looked, I realized everything that I’d been holding onto, wasn’t really Aerie at all.
Aerie was gone, and it was time for me to stop acting like the poor, wounded widower and take control of my life.
If I wanted Freya in my life, I had to stop giving her mixed signals.
And I’d start by telling her about Aerie right this second.
I didn’t even spare a glance at the clock, because if I had, I would’ve probably halted and waited for morning.
But I didn’t.
Padding down the hallway, I peeked my head into the bedroom I’d stashed Freya in and studied the bed.
It was empty.
Frowning, I walked further into the room, flipping the lamp on at the bedside as I did.
“Freya?” I called loudly.
She didn’t respond.
My niece did, though.
Trying to hide my smile, I walked out into the hallway and moved one door down, opening the door to Emily’s room and smiling when I saw her flailing in the bed.
“What’s wrong, pretty girl?” I asked, reaching for her.
“Probably the fact that you woke her up because you’re screaming at three in the goddamned morning,” Apple growled from the doorway.
I shrugged.
“Where’s Freya?” I asked him. “Did you pass her in the living room?”
“Nope,” Apple held out his hands for Emily.
I handed her over and walked into the living room.
By the time I hit up the garage, I knew she wasn’t there.
“Shit,” I groaned, walking back to my bedroom and getting my phone.
Pressing her number into the dial screen, I waited while it rang and rang.
She never answered.
I called again.
She still didn’t answer.
“Fuck,” I said, dropping the phone onto my bed.
Where was she?
I knew she wouldn’t go home.
She wasn’t that crazy.
She knew I was having her here with me not just because I wanted her here, but because fucking Hanson Coller was a douchebag and deadly when it came to me.
Since he knew I was with Freya, he’d stop at nothing to fuck with her.
I wasn’t sure if he’d kill her, but I wouldn’t put it past him.
I’d taken his son away, and he’d never been very happy about that.
By the time I was able to get Wolf on the line, I had worked myself into a fine panic.
“What?” Wolf asked, his voice thick with sleep.
“I need you to tell me where Freya’s car is right now,” I said, staring at the part of the driveway where her car had been when I’d arrived home.
It was empty now, achingly so.
Wolf’s muttered, ‘fuck’ was audible as I heard him slide out of bed.
Long minutes went by as I waited, and then he came back on the line sounding more awake this time.
“Locator puts her a couple miles from you. She’s at her brother’s house,” he answered.
I sighed.
“Thanks,” I muttered. “Sorry I woke you.”
He hung up without replying.
And I started jogging down the street, shirtless and unarmed, making the two-minute drive in an eight-minute jog.
The lights were blazing at Corey’s house as I turned into the driveway, unsurprised to find it that way.
I didn’t announce myself, instead I looked in from the window, watching as she cried in the middle of the couch.
My heart ached for her.
Not able to stand it anymore, I tapped lightly on the glass, hoping she wouldn’t give me a hard time about coming inside.
Her head snapped up, and her ravaged, tear-stricken face ripped my heart out.
“Let me in,” I said softly.
She got up, wiping her tears as she did, and opened the door without another word.
Then she ran into my arms, wrapping both around my shoulders and burying her face into my neck.
“It hurts,” she whispered, devastation shaking her voice.
I turned my head and placed a kiss on the side of her neck.
“I know, baby. I wish I could say it gets better, but I’d be lying,” I told her softly.
“I wish you could take the pain away,” she cried. “God, I want him back so bad.”
I walked to the couch and sat down gently, wrapping both arms tightly around her back and holding her as she cried.
And I waited.
I would wait as long as it took.
Because she was mine, and I hated to see her cry.
When the last tear finally slid down my belly, I waited for more to come, but none did.
My hands lifted to run through her hair and she leaned her head into the caress.
My fingers sifted through her long blonde hair, over and over.