Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 158872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 530(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 530(@300wpm)
If I leave town, problem solved.
“Molly?” Hayden touches my elbow. “Are you okay?”
The thought of leaving town is like a runaway train. I have a little money saved up. How hard can it be to find a job at another grocery store?
I force a weak smile. “No, but I will be.”
I just need to make one stop before I leave Johnsonville for good.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Molly
After everyone went home and Remy went to bed, I snuck outside. Griff said I could drive Black Beauty while he was away. I’m not doing anything wrong.
Sliding into the front seat brings on a wave of nausea even though I haven’t eaten anything in hours. I can’t be in this car without thinking of Griff.
Lock it down, Molly.
I twist the key. The powerful engine grumbles to life. Yikes, that’s loud in the middle of the night. Remy’s room is on the other side of the house. Please don’t let him come outside.
Carefully, I ease off the brake and apply slight pressure to the gas pedal. Just how Griff taught me.
Don’t think about him. It’s just a car. Metal and rubber. Mechanical parts to propel me forward—nothing more.
I back the car into the street and tap the gas. The engine roars and the car shoots forward. Barely touching the pedal, I steer the car toward Jerry’s garage.
Jerry won’t open up for hours.
My Malibu is in a separate garage behind the shop now. Vapor moved it there to prep it for some work a few days ago. I ease the Chevelle next to that building and kill the engine.
For a few stinging minutes, I can’t breathe. There’s no air. Just pain exploding in my throat and stabbing my eyes.
Finally, I calm myself. Without turning around, I reach behind the seat, searching the floor for the bat that Griff keeps for protection.
I gave Griff everything. And it wasn’t good enough.
I’m not the girl he wants. This is the first time we’ve been separated, and he couldn’t control himself. Was he lying when he said he hadn’t been with anyone else in a long time before we slept together? Probably.
I step out of the Chevelle and heft the bat in my hands. On the key ring, I find the one for the garage door and open it. My car sits there in its unfinished state. Mocking me. A present from Griff. Something we shared and built together.
My mind flashes back to the day he gave me the car. Each moment we spent in the garage, restoring it. Building our relationship. Creating memories. Kissing on the hood. How happy we were. How much fun we had together.
Disgust and embarrassment well up inside me. How could I be so stupid?
I lift the bat, testing the weight of it in my hands. I never played softball in high school. Maybe I should’ve. I pull the bat back, twisting at the waist. Every bit of hurt and anger slides from my chest, down my arms, and into my fingers as I grip the bat tighter and swing forward.
Smash!
The bat crashes through the driver’s side window. Glass shatters and tinkles on the concrete floor. Bits spray back, scratching and prickling my skin, but I barely notice.
I lift it again and bring it down hard. Crack! It slams into the side mirror with a jarring but satisfying metallic clang. The mirror flies into the back wall, leaving a shiny trail of mirrored glass like tears on the concrete floor.
Home run.
Griff kissing that woman.
I smash the passenger side mirror.
Her moans.
The bat punches into the headlights with a satisfying crunch and crackle.
Their bodies twisting under the covers. Her nails digging into his skin.
The bat connects with the A-pillar holding the windshield in place instead of the windshield I was aiming for. The impact jars my bones and rattles my teeth.
My arms shake and throb.
Breathing hard, I turn, stumble out of the garage, and stand in front of the Chevelle. Griff’s pride and joy. My arms wobble like spaghetti as I lift the bat.
I sat in the garage and watched him restore it from scraps. He’s let me race it at Zips. I had my first orgasm in that front seat.
I lift the bat higher, aiming for the headlights.
No.
I can’t seem to force my arms to move.
He’s had this car for years. Long before we were a couple.
It’s not mine to destroy.
I lower the bat and turn to stare at the mess I’ve left behind. My car was going to be so beautiful. Now it’s shattered. In pieces.
Just like my heart.
Tears stream down my cheeks but I ignore them as I toss the bat into the trunk of the Chevelle. I pull the car into the bay next to the ruined Malibu, leave the keys inside, and slam the door shut.
Now what?
It doesn’t matter.
The sun’s coming up.
Exhausted and throbbing with pain, I stumble onto the main road and start walking toward the sunrise.