Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 129460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 518(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 518(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
“Exactly!” Jess roars, scaring the living daylights out of the blonde. “So why is it any different because he’s a man?”
The blonde’s eyes bounce between Jess and me before she scoffs, “Men don’t get assaulted.”
“Yes, they do,” Jess bites back. “Every fucking day, actually. But it is moronic idiots like you who make it impossible for them to come forward.”
“You… ah… you…”
Jess has us both stumped. I’m too shocked to talk, and the blonde is too worried that Jess’s notions are factual. Sexual assault is sexual assault no matter the gender it happens to.
“I wasn’t assaulting him,” the patron eventually spits out. “I just wanted him to know I was interested.”
“He knows,” Jess assures her, her voice switching from angry to jealous. “And he isn’t interested, so how about you fuck off before I find an inappropriate way to let you know that?”
“Jeez, there’s no need to be so rude.” The blonde tries to act unaffected by Jess’s glare, but the quick mutter of an apology before she races for the door indicates she is shitting bricks. Jess is tiny, the size of a fairy, but height shouldn’t enter the equation when it comes to protecting someone you care about.
She barely broke into a sweat when she all but carried me into the lobby of our apartment building when I pulled her date off her after he wouldn’t accept no as an answer…
I freeze as shock bombards me.
I didn’t get into a drunken brawl last Thanksgiving. I was drunk and high on coke, but my fists didn’t connect with a stranger’s face. They pummeled into a man who stared at Jess as if she was his to do whatever he wanted to.
The blows keep coming.
He was the guy manning the AA register two months ago. The one who almost peed his pants when I stood across from him.
Holy fucking shit. How did I keep all this so buried? I’ve tried to deny what happened to me for years, I even dabbled in recreational drugs to blur the photographic memories, but nothing worked.
I guess I needed to be off my face when I was six.
After swallowing numerous times in a row to relieve my suddenly scorched throat, I shift on my feet to face Jess. My lips move to speak, but before I can, Jess stammers out, “Now we’re even.”
Although her reply seems more a statement than a question, her hardened expression relaxes when I bob my chin.
Her carefree nature doesn’t linger for long. As quickly as the lines in her forehead smoothed, they return stronger than ever. “Bucket,” she murmurs through the fingers clamping her mouth. “I need a bucket.”
CHAPTER 30
JESS
The fiery depths of hell one too many drinks tossed me into Saturday night seem nowhere near as bad when I spot Octavia’s smiling face upon opening the front door of my apartment. Even though my hangover was mostly cured by late Sunday afternoon, I took a sick day today.
I need more than a couple of hours to unjumble my confusion for the past two years, but nine hours are better than no hours.
When Octavia’s hand shoots up to check me for a temperature, I prop my shoulder onto the doorframe. I don’t feel hot, but I dab my cheeks with the back of my hand when she says, “Are you sure you’re up to Movie Marathon? You’re still looking at little green around the gills.”
“I’m perfectly fine.” With more gusto than I’ve felt the past two years, I yank Octavia into my apartment with a playful tug on her arm, then get the shock of my life.
She isn’t alone.
Caleb came with her.
He hasn’t done that once in the prior twenty-four months.
Not ever.
“Hey,” he greets, his voice lower since it’s primed with apprehension. As his brows stitch, his eyes drift to Octavia who’s doing her best to act ignorant to the obvious tension firing in the air. “Tivy said you invited me.” He grinds his cousin’s name through clenched teeth.
Happy to drop Octavia into the deep end, I state matter-of-factly, “Tivy lied.” I lessen the wish to flee on Caleb’s face by twenty percent when I say, “But that was because I thought you worked on Mondays.”
“I do…” He pauses, swallows, then murmurs, “I did.” He shouldn’t look relieved while saying, “I quit this morning,” but for some reason, he does.
“His boss was a dick,” Octavia jumps back into the conversation. “Supposedly, one angry customer sees the entire team’s tips confiscated. And get this, she wasn’t verbally assaulted by a staff member. It was by another patron.”
My eyes snap to Caleb. Although he knows Octavia doesn’t have all the facts, he doesn’t ease her confusion. He merely rubs the back of his neck before shadowing her walk into my apartment.
They only make it three steps into my living room before they discover I’m not alone.