Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 76396 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76396 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
We’ve always been close. All four of us.
Hope to fuck it always stays that way.
Because our father is a drunk, and our mother is gone. We lost her years ago, and everything went south. We grew up hard. Lincoln raised us all when dad was passed out drunk, or had forgotten to pick us up from school. Lincoln grew up way too fast, and too early, and it shows. It shows in every way it counts. But he’s still holding us up, still working so we can stay in this house, still dragging dad up the stairs when he can’t walk, still putting food on our table.
Still holding us together.
I walk back over to the window, and stare down.
I wonder what her name is?
~2~
NOW – ELLIE
I wish I could look away.
But I can’t.
My eyes are glued to the photographs Slater left behind. Glued to the pictures of what is very obviously me, and I’m very obviously in love, and yet I don’t remember a damned thing. But I look happy, and I think that’s what’s getting to me the most. I’m happy. Really truly happy. The smile on my face, I’ve never seen. At least, I don’t remember seeing. And the way Slater is looking at me, I’ve never experienced anything like that before. I can see, literally see, how much he loves me.
And yet now, the man who was here earlier, looks so incredibly different.
So incredibly broken.
All because of me?
Did he really love me that much?
Does he truly still love me after so many years?
Is any of this real? Is his story genuine? Or is there an ulterior motive? I don’t know.
I don’t know anything.
And it’s making it very hard to be okay.
Very hard.
“Knock knock.”
I turn, placing the photos down onto my bed, and see Erin walking in. She’s only a few years older than me, and her beauty is utterly breathtaking. Her hair is as black as the night, but her eyes, emerald green and glowing against her fair skin. She’s petite, and curvy, and incredibly gorgeous.
I often ask her why she’s still single, because anyone would think men would be lining up at her door.
Her response is always, “Men are douchebags, I’m way better off on my own.”
And she is.
She’s strong, and happy, and determined.
She doesn’t need anyone.
So when she finds someone, I know it’s because she wants them, not because she needs them.
I aspire to be like her.
Strong and brave.
Beautiful and determined.
“Hey,” I smile.
“Still looking at those photos?” she asks, walking over and flopping down onto my bed, still dressed in her work uniform.
“I can’t seem to look away from them, I look so...happy.”
“Well...maybe you were...”
Maybe.
“You’re home early,” I notice, glancing at the clock hanging on the wall. “My shift doesn’t start for a few hours but I can go in now, if you need. Are you sick?”
Erin owns her own bakery, and she works a lot of hours to keep it going. But she’s an incredible cook, and her cakes are some of the most popular in town, people come from all over to taste them, they’re amazing. And her shop has such a wonderful atmosphere, with big sofas, tables and chair, umbrellas outside overlooking a gorgeous park.
I often go in and just kick back on a sofa with a coffee, reading a book.
Erin was nice enough to give me a job about three months ago, when we both decided I was ready to start trying to get my life in order. I don’t work often, probably only three or four shifts a week, but it’s a good start and it’s helping me adjust to my world as it is now.
It’s been a long road, but I feel like I’m finally, finally starting to learn how to just...be...again.
“No, I came home early. Tatiana is covering me. I needed to talk to you about something. I wondered if it was worth it or not, because I didn’t want to cause you any extra stress right now, but I think you need to know.”
My heart feels like it’s going to launch out of my throat.
I don’t like this already, and I don’t even know what it is she’s about to say.
“Something is wrong,” I say, meeting her eyes.
“Someone came into the bakery today, holding one of your missing signs that were distributed when Slater was looking for you. It was a man. Blond. Possibly around forty years old. He walked up to the counter and asked me if I’d seen you, he showed me the missing ad. I acted as poker faced as I could, and said no, because honestly...something felt very wrong. I didn’t get a good vibe, honey. With Slater, I felt like he was genuine. This...I don’t think this man was genuine.”
My heart feels like it comes to a complete stop.
Has he found me? Has he managed to get information out of Riley, and tracked me down?