Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 61897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
“Ready,” I said.
We walked out of the room and down the hall. Livy met us outside, standing near the town car.
“Selena,” she said, “I’m so sorry about your dad.”
“Thanks,” I said.
She took me by the shoulders, looking at me seriously. “If I can ever do anything for you, please, tell me and it will get done.”
I blinked, surprised. She’d never given me much attention or even acted like she cared that I existed, and now she was saying that? I didn’t understand her and probably never would, but it meant a lot.
“Thanks,” I said.
She nodded and then turned away. I climbed into the car and Nash climbed in after me.
The ride to the airport went by in a flash. One second we were leaving the hotel and the next we were pulling up outside of the terminal. There was so much I wanted to say, so much I wanted to tell Nash, but none of it was coming out.
It was like my mouth was glued shut, or maybe full of marbles. I couldn’t make words come out, even though there were so many words I wanted to speak.
I wanted to tell him how I felt. I wanted to tell him how much he meant to me. The words were there, on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t find them.
And then he was standing there with my bags, looking at me. I climbed out of the car.
“Ready?” he asked, frowning.
“Yeah,” I said.
He hugged me.
I had to say it.
“Come with me,” I blurted out.
He stood back, staring at me.
“What?”
“Come with me,” I said more softly. “Please. Come with me.”
“Selena,” he said.
I hugged him tight and wouldn’t let myself cry. I wasn’t going to cry.
“Selena,” he said again, “I have to be in Los Angeles. We’re leaving tomorrow. If I don’t show up—it’s part of my mission.” I could hear the pain in his voice.
“I get it,” I said.
But I was empty inside in that moment.
“I can’t come,” he said.
I pulled away from him. “Okay.”
“I’ll see you again soon,” he said. “Really soon. You can come to L.A. when you’re ready.”
“Okay.” I was already looking away from him, already feeling like I was the biggest idiot in the world.
“You’ll be okay,” he said.
“Sure.” He stared at me, but I took a step away. “See you later, Nash.”
He nodded. “See you.”
I walked away, even though it was the most painful thing I had ever done in my life.
He stood there for a second and then got back into the car. It pulled away.
I felt like a piece of me pulled away with that car.
I knew he was going to leave eventually. I knew there was nothing I could do about it, that he’d pay me my money and we’d be finished. After all, I was never really his wife.
He was married to his job. He wanted to get back into combat, and in order to do that he had to go to Los Angeles. He had to follow through with his promises, play the good soldier, and maybe he’d get rewarded.
There wasn’t any room for me in his plan. I was just a tool after all.
A minute later, I turned and walked away.
I gathered my ticket, got in line at security, and then flew home.
32
Nash
One Week Later
* * *
Los Angeles was a fucking shit hole.
I leaned back in my chair, on my third whisky, staring out across the buildings. I was sitting out on the balcony of my hotel room suite, and nothing felt fucking right.
Liv wasn’t kidding when she said my job was going to be sitting around watching. They didn’t give a fuck about my opinion at all. They had plenty of other consultants and writers and contractors, each with their own agenda, and I was just another face in the sea. Sure, it was my fucking story they were trying to tell, but what the fuck did they care about that?
And so I sat there all day long, collecting my check, because that was my mission.
My fucking mission. Livy assured me that my publishers were happy, but we both knew the fucking truth. My “publisher” was my fucking commanding officer, and this whole thing was just one bullshit ruse to create another propaganda tool for the government.
They were using me, using my story, to make themselves look good. I knew it and they knew it. Honestly, they weren’t really trying very hard to hide that fact. I was just a pawn in their little fucking game, but there I was, playing along.
Because I was a Navy SEAL, even if my mission was domestic. I didn’t go against orders. I went to L.A. because that was what my superiors wanted me to do.
I didn’t go with Selena because it was my fucking job to go to L.A.
I took a long swig of whisky, trying not to think about her. I hadn’t spoken to her since the airport, and the look of despair and sadness on her face had damn near fucking broken me.