Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 87721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
His eyes dart up and away, and when I follow his line of sight, I notice Deacon looking over at me for the first time since we took off hours ago.
I ignore the jerk. If he didn’t want to look in my direction until his friend started talking to me, that’s on him. I’m no longer in the mood to sit silently and stew in my own issues.
“I don’t even know what normal is anymore.” And damn if that isn’t a brutal truth I have to deal with at some point.
Everything has changed. Thinking my friend was dead, getting my apartment trashed, and coming close to being hurt or killed by a street thug has a way of putting things into perspective. Pain and suffering never touched me before. I was living in some protective bubble, never letting the outside world touch me in any way. My life was all fun and games, and I was sheltered to the point that I had no clue such bad things could happen to people. Of course there are always stories on the news, but it was always so easy to turn the station and ignore the stuff that was going on around me. I avoided bad neighborhoods without the consideration of what people were going through that couldn’t escape that life. I was all about helping at fundraisers and trying to get other rich people to donate money to save wildlife and art when people practically in my own backyard were suffering.
The realization that I’m as vapid as Dani has hit me harder than I like. Deacon has every right to his opinion of me being a spoiled brat wearing rose-colored glasses. I’m part of the problem, part of the reason people in lower socioeconomic neighborhoods hate rich people so much. I don’t spend my time making the world a better place. I only help to create a greater divide.
“Life has a way of throwing us curveballs,” Flynn says, making me realize I’m not alone while having my current existential crisis.
“Yeah,” I agree instantly.
“But the biggest test is figuring out what you’re going to do about them.” Flynn leans back, his eyes flicking in Deacon’s direction before he clasps his hands over his chest and closes his eyes.
Is Deacon a test?
I huff a humorless laugh as I settle back into my seat. Of course he is. But what exactly is he testing? My loyalty to Dani? My loyalty to myself?
Just thinking of my best friend makes my blood boil. Not counting the fact that I’d never get involved with a dangerous man, I’d never just take off and leave without letting someone in my life know where I was going. If we found her hiding out, afraid for her life, I might feel differently. If that were the case, I could understand her not making contact with me or someone else in her family.
It’s hard to feel bad about what happened between Deacon and me when she didn’t respect me enough to reach out to let me know that she’s not dead, not cut up in tiny pieces and tossed into the Mississippi River because she got involved with the wrong man and then stole from him.
I have a million questions, and it’s with that resolve—the knowledge that I’m going to finally stand up to her and let her know what a shitty friend she is—that makes it easier for me to ignore the man a handful of feet away that’s glaring out the window and close my eyes.
I’m no longer going to be the friend that gives and gets nothing in return, and I get the feeling that I’ll be leaving the Maldives with a little less baggage than I showed up with. As much as that hurts my heart, I feel like it’s been a long time coming.
Chapter 29
Deacon
He’s just fucking with me.
I’ve told myself that every time Flynn leaned over and spoke to Anna on the plane, and every time he’s whispered something in her ear that made her smile once we landed. It’s what keeps me from reaching around his neck and choking the life out of him on foreign soil as he sticks close to her side, leaning in and winking at her every damn chance he gets.
What I hate most is that my oldest friend can read me like a book. I don’t even have to say a word and that fucker knows that Anna means something to me. She’s more than a client, more than just some woman I knew in a past life. And fuck me if I can pinpoint when that shift occurred. At this point, I don’t know if it was a gradual shift, or if it hit me all at one time.
“I’m going to fucking kill him.”
“What was that?” The sound of Wren’s voice in my ear reminds me that I’m not alone.