Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 118780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 594(@200wpm)___ 475(@250wpm)___ 396(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 594(@200wpm)___ 475(@250wpm)___ 396(@300wpm)
That’s what I see in the eyes piercing back at me. To my horror, my eyes well with tears for a completely different reason. I collapse onto the sofa and cover my face as the sob wells in my throat.
“Oh fuck.” Cruz drops to one side as Alex takes my other. Pepper’s cold nose presses to my knees as I lose control.
My body shakes as weeks—fucking months—of anger and sadness pour down my cheeks.
Fingers tangle in my hair, pulling it back from my face. Two firm hands rub up and down my back.
Kind.
Gentle.
Caring.
Two men I don’t know well work to soothe me as I break down.
Calming ‘shh’ tones sound in my ear.
“Get it out, sweetness,” comes tenderly from Alex.
“We’re here, baby. Let it go,” Cruz urges.
A handful of tissues are shoved in my palm.
God knows how long I cry, but eventually the tears slow and the disgrace sets in.
What is wrong with me?
I sniff and hiccup until it’s moderately under control.
“I’m so sorry. Do you have a restroom?”
“I’ll get you there.” Cruz tucks my face into his chest and stands, guiding me to the back and into the private bathroom.
Without a word, he closes me in, giving me space.
The reflection in the mirror is terrifying. It’s not only the splotchy skin and streak of make-up. It’s much more.
“Toodle-doo, we have a strict rule. Crying women have five minutes until we come in,” Cruz calls through the door.
I splash water on my face, glad for the supplies I keep in my bag.
When I’m done, it’s apparent I was crying, but the damage isn’t as bad.
Cruz, Alex, and Pepper are waiting for me outside the door. Pepper nudges my hand until I rub her head.
“Pepper was raised intending to be an anxiety service dog,” Alex explains.
“She’s good at her job.”
“Sit now.” He points at the chair pulled out from the small table.
I do as he says, Pepper sitting obediently at my feet and laying her face in my lap.
“I’m incredibly sorry—”
“Stop!” Cruz demands, his harsh bite making me jump. “Don’t you dare sit there and apologize. Whatever that was is eating you up inside.”
“I d-don’t know what that was. I don’t cry. Well, I didn’t. Except for…” I trail off remembering the last few times I’ve shed tears. All because of Craig Johns and his antics.
“Drink this.” Alex shoves a cup of pink liquid at me.
First sip, I moan at the delicious concoction. “What is this?”
“Our version of a Pink Panty Pulldown. Shoot it back and then we’ll talk.”
“I can’t shotgun this drink. I’m driving.”
“Not anymore. Alex and I decided you are coming home with us. If you want to go home later to sleep, we will drive you.”
I glance between them, a sense of panic rising. Pepper gets on her hind legs, pawing at my thighs.
“I’m not really a sleeper,” I admit with a whisper, taking a healthy sip.
“That explains some of this.”
“This?” I raise an eyebrow at Alex.
“You look like a walking, talking China doll ready to shatter.”
“Jeez, thanks.”
“You’re a knockout Rowan, but friends can spot a façade.”
Friends… the word makes my throat tingle again.
“Me thinks she needs something stronger,” Cruz hums, ticking his finger against his chin. “Maybe a night of shots is in order.”
“No, I can’t do that.”
“Give me one reason not to whisk your fine ass out of here and take you to Tom’s to get plastered?”
At the mention of Tom’s, my stomach pitches. I’m never going back to Tom’s.
“You’re pale as a ghost.”
“I’m no longer a fan of Tom’s.”
“Who turns down a bar filled with hot cops?”
“A girl who made a fool out of herself with one of those hot cops.”
I take another drink and hold out my glass for a refill, my heart racing. Once it’s back in my hand, I blurt out things I’ve been holding in for the last few months. Starting with kicking Craig out and ending with the other night when Ford had another woman in his arms.
“So, you can understand how I totally misread the situation and how embarrassed I am.”
They exchange a look that sets my skin crawling.
“Maybe I should go home.”
“You’re coming home with us,” Alex repeats. “And you’re spending the night. If it’s the last thing I do, you’re getting some sleep.”
“I can’t sleep at night. Nighttime brings on memories. My therapist and I discussed it; this won’t last forever.”
“Okay, we get smashed and watch movies until we pass out,” Alex proposes.
“I can’t ask that.”
“Rowan, doll face, you don’t have a choice.”
My shoulders sink. “I used to be fun. Penis jokes, crass comments, off-the-wall wit—I love it all.”
“Who said you aren’t still fun?”
“Everyone looks at me with such caution. I’m branded with the Scarlett letter of pity and fragility.”
Alex drops his chin to his chest, blowing out a breath while Cruz does the opposite, facing the ceiling.
“We have our work cut out for us.” Alex eyes Cruz. “Good thing we have experience in this.”