Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
I grab a bottle of beer and pop the top off, gulping it down before dipping back in to find a snack. Nothing calls my name, so I settle for a package of berries. Not something I’d buy myself. They won’t fill me but might get me by until dinner.
I’d forgotten how relaxing it can be in nature. I brought my phone outside but haven’t picked it up once in the past hour. Even living at the beach has white noise—the waves crashing on the shore, the sound of PCH in the distance if I go out the front. The seagulls are nasty little devils that will claim your food and squawk at you if you dare to say something back.
Here, the buzz of insects and the birds above create their own music, but there are moments when there’s no sound at all, not even rustling leaves. It’s fascinating. Those details have slipped my memory, though I can still hear Nikki screaming for my mom if I dared to splash her, the way my ears clogged when swimming underwater, and the crackling of the fire when we would toast s’mores, which was almost every night we were here.
Memories that recall my happier times also recall the ones I still hide from on a regular basis . . .
Poppy’s laughter when I cracked jokes filled the room, her hazel eyes showing no fear as the needle punctured her skin while on the table in the tattoo parlor, the feel of her body tucked against mine right before we fell asleep . . .
I stand and walk toward the lake, knowing that’s the shit I need to clear from my head. The memories of my past, present, and that short time we spent together all blur as if I can hold on to them forever. I don’t want to. I can’t. I take my shoes off and then my clothes, dropping the empty bottle on the sandy beach my parents added along the edge of the lake.
I dive in, and bubbles of my last breath float to the top, but I hold myself under, trying to free myself from the memories that weigh me down. One night shouldn’t have left as many scars as it did. I know it’s not the night that did the damage. It’s the girl.
Breaking through the water, I take in a lungful of air before exhaling and floating on the surface. Arms wide, my mouth is barely above the water. I stare up at the sky as golden hour takes over.
I should have brought a wetsuit. The lake’s fucking freezing. I kick my way to shore and get out. Grabbing my clothes and the bottle, I hurry back, dumping my clothes on the floor as soon as I enter the house. I rush to the bathroom and crank the water, hoping it heats up quickly after being dormant for so long.
Steam fills the air, and I step into the tiled surround. Standing under the hot water, I let it run over me, hoping to cleanse not only my skin but also my soul. That’s what this trip is about—a fresh start.
I wash up and clean my hair before rinsing. If it did nothing else, the hot water released some tension from my shoulders. Wrapping a towel around my hips, I try to secure it, but it keeps slipping. “Fucker.” I finally get it tucked to stay and pad my way back out of the room to collect my clothes.
The sound of running water stops me just shy of the living room. The smell of flowers reaches the air around me. But the humming has me preparing to attack whoever has broken in. I peek around the corner and see a woman standing at the sink with her back to me.
Fuck.
Is she a fan?
A stalker?
The lead in my version of Misery?
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Ready to grab my phone to call the police, I remember I left it out on the Adirondack chair on the front porch. Fuck me.
The blade of a knife sheens under the kitchen spotlight as the intruder starts to sharpen it. Nikki was right. This is how I’m going to die—a fan encounter gone awry.
I pin myself to the wall to stay out of sight, trying to think of all the ways she’s going to dice me up with that knife. What the fuck am I thinking? I can take her.
Peeking around again, I sum her up in one glance.
Five-four, maybe five-five on a good day.
Light blond hair in a ponytail that I could easily grab to take her down.
Fit from yoga or some shit that keeps her lean but doesn’t give her a fighting chance against an opponent. She should really add in some weights to bulk up if she’s stalking celebrities on a regular basis.