Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
I think I cried in relief for six hours straight that first day. And I swore—swore—to myself that we would never be in that position again.
And here I was, screwing with that stability I’d begun to take for granted.
I needed a reality check.
Even as that thought formed, though, another one rushed to replace it, reminding me that I did have a reality check.
Right before we curled up on the couch.
The phone call.
My stomach twisted hard enough to make me regret all those sweets I’d shoveled in my face while we watched the movies.
I jerked away from Atlas, carelessly climbing off of him, not even paying any mind to the potential to hurt him in the process.
“Hey,” he called, voice soft.
I saw his hand reach out toward me before I turned and ran down the hall, slamming my bedroom door, then the bathroom one behind me as I dropped to the floor by the toilet just in time.
“Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God,” I whimpered to myself as I reached blindly for the box of tissues, blowing my nose hard before peeling myself off the floor to swish some mouthwash, then brush my teeth.
Tears, expected—given the situation—sprang up then poured down my cheeks as I rinsed, then stared at my reflection.
Too many thoughts were racing at once, none of them able to really take root.
The horrible distant past mingled with the lovely recent one, then got tangled up with the possible terrible future, making my stomach roil again.
Sucking in a deep breath, I reached for a washcloth, running it under the cold water, then pressing it to the back of my neck, despite the chills that were racking my body from the vomiting.
The shock of it seemed to slow the racing thoughts, allowing me to focus on one at a time.
One, the phone call.
I could block the number.
But I needed to make sure there was no way that my number would allow someone to trace me. I wasn’t on a plan. I added minutes because it was the most affordable option when I’d… left my old life.
I hoped it was untraceable, because people might ask questions if I changed my number.
Next, how had the number been uncovered?
My mind retraced my steps since I’d left Iowa.
There were any number of places I’d given my number out to. Applications for jobs, for apartments, for short-term rentals.
But how could any of that be traced?
I didn’t know.
But, undeniably, it could be done.
It didn’t mean, I told myself, that I personally could be traced, that I’d been found.
That was just my paranoia at work.
Yes, my paranoia may have kept me safe thus far, but that didn’t mean I needed to keep running.
No one knew I was here.
Save for my coworkers, the owners of the pets that came through, and, now, the Rivers and Mallick families.
Okay.
Then for the next problem.
Namely, the man I’d left in the other room.
The one who I’d just dry-humped like a teenager.
The one that had just given me an orgasm.
I was no starry-eyed virgin. But I’d also never had a real “O” with a man before. I’d managed to take care of myself, but it was something new to have it with someone else. Even if it was just… friction.
It felt more intimate somehow than times I’d actually had—orgasm-free—sex with someone.
Why did this have to happen for the first time with Atlas Rivers?
A man who I needed not to get involved with.
For one thing, because me having a roof over my head was in his hands. And if he thought things with us had gotten weird, he might toss me out on my butt.
For another, I probably already liked him a little too much. Especially for a man who was destined to leave.
He’d been very clear about never staying in one place long.
So if I let things get even more physical, and my feelings for him grew, it would be crushing when he left, knowing he was likely out there in the world, meeting new women at every ‘port.’ While I pined for him in his house.
I needed to get it together.
Put some distance between us.
It was the only way this could continue to go on.
Decision made, I made my way back into my room, hearing Atlas rolling down the hall into his room. He was probably going to get changed, which gave me a couple of minutes to go and put Samson out before rushing back into my room to avoid him and the awkward conversation he would feel compelled to have, given the circumstances.
As soon as his door closed, I rushed out on tiptoes, whisper calling Samson, setting him outside, then quickly putting the leftover sweets away, grabbing Atlas a few bottles of water to leave on the coffee table, bringing Samson into my room with me, and finally let out the breath I swear I’d been holding, worried he might come out at any point.