Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 157140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
“Eliza—” he starts, but I point to the hallway, my hand shaking.
“Go! How many times do I have to say it?”
He moves back to my sofa and scoops Destiny up again, settling her on her feet. She gives me an apologetic look as he ushers her to the door.
“Cole?” I call.
He looks at me over his shoulder. “Yeah?”
“Given your background, I’d think you might be more empathetic.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Not everyone comes home from the military to rich parents. You were lucky, you know that, right?”
He stares at me like he just doesn’t get it.
Of course not.
Rich guys won’t.
“A lot of the people down there we were serving coffee to came back hurt or had PTSD or both. Lincoln Burns’ best friend lived there until Linc gave him a job. But not everyone has a best friend who can hire them. So, try to be a little more understanding. Also, get the hell out of my house.” You fucking snob, I add in my head.
“Eliza, fuck. I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. It’s just—”
“How did you mean it? The same way you stopped just short of calling my place a shithole?” I fold my arms, glaring.
“I don’t think bad things about you or people on the streets. I just don’t need my teenage daughter taking any chances with her safety before she’s old enough to decide what she wants.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets, fixing his gaze on me.
I scoff. “Whatever. You know the biggest ways girls from affluent families get hurt is usually with an insider, right? A bad family member, a friend...”
“That’s not what I meant. She just got robbed, Eliza. Can you cool it with your smartass lectures?” He looks up at the ceiling, his jaw so tense it could pop. “I told you, I worry about you here, too. So, yeah, of course I wonder about my daughter’s safety in this neighborhood. Today is proof I’m right.”
“I don’t need to be rescued from poverty, Cole. Go use your superhero act on someone who cares.” I’ve been way more broke than this, but right now, I don’t feel like saying it. I point to the hallway again. “Bye.”
He starts walking, keeping his head down like a scolded cat.
I slam the door behind him and lock up, pressing my back to the thick wood.
There’s only one thing left to do now.
Collapse on my bed and cry.
I am so, so stupid.
I knew better than to get involved with another stuck-up suit who thinks he craps diamonds. He didn’t play me quite like Derek, but did he play me?
And wasn’t it my own fault for ever thinking he’d stoop down to care about an average, unfancy girl like me?
Why do I do it? Why?
I fell too hard, too fast, and with no idea how to pick myself up again.
An hour later, my phone pings.
Maybe it’s Cole.
Though the logical part of my brain quickly remembers it’s better if it isn’t.
I tap the screen anyway, holding my breath.
Cole: Will I see you at work on Monday?
Ah, work. His precious brand. That would be what he cares about and not the glass heart he just punched into dust.
Eliza: Who cares? Your scorched line—sorry “campfire”—is basically good to go. Pat yourself on the back and call it a day.
Cole: So, you won’t be in?
Oh my God. I’m about to find a way to break the laws of physics so I can reach through the screen and smack him.
Do you check up on all of your employees on Saturday nights to verify their Monday plans? I send back bitterly.
Ha. It takes him a solid minute to respond to that one.
Cole: Only the ones I love.
Oof.
Mammoth freaking oof.
He loves me? After all of this? And he has to say it now after slamming the door in my face?
I hate how I get all squishy inside. I guess the joke is on me after all and I’m the one who’s playing myself with these men.
Eliza: How do they usually answer?
Cole: So far, they’re not very forthcoming.
Eliza: I might need a wellness day. Mostly so I can get an appointment with my employment lawyer to file a harassment suit.
Cole: You’re not serious?
I’m not, but the joke’s on him.
Eliza: We’ll see. Depends on if I survive the many horrors waiting outside my front door. Do I need a bodyguard for that?
Cole: Eliza, if you were a parent, you’d understand.
Eliza: LOL. Right. Because it’s not like I care about her or anything.
Cole: I’m out. I tried to be reasonable.
Eliza: Only because your head is that far up your ass.
At least he’s a man of his word.
Because he doesn’t respond to that last hit.
He just leaves me alone in this chasm of silence where I wonder how much of that was hot air—and how much he ever loved me, after all.