Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 96957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
“Book smart. Or maybe you just have a gifted memory. It won’t get you far in life if you’re not street smart.”
“I’m street smart.” My head jerked back.
“A man tried to rape you.”
“But he—” My words died on the spot.
And I knew … I had always known. He never confirmed or denied it.
I just … knew.
Yet his unintentional admission knocked my emotions on their ass. I wasn’t prepared to deal with one hundred percent certainty.
“Wylder …”
He shook his head. “Stop with your theories of my heroism.”
“Wylder …” I whispered as a couple tears escaped.
“Don’t.” His head continued to ease side to side. “You said it yourself … I heard about it on campus. The rumors.”
“Wylder …”
“Liv—”
“There was a knife. He demanded my wallet. I never told you he tried to rape me. And I know my friends never said anything. That wasn’t the rumor.”
He took a hard swallow while letting his gaze drift off in the distance just over my shoulder.
I wiped my face. “He could have killed me.”
“He didn’t.” His tone sounded as distant and unemotional as his blank, unfocused eyes.
“And why is that?” I let myself believe my gut feeling—that voice in the recesses of my mind—was enough; I didn’t need to hear him say the actual words.
I was wrong.
I needed the words.
His focus returned to me. Steadfast, steely-eyed Slade returned. “Because your life wasn’t his to take.”
His words echoed in my head as I tried to figure out what to do with them. “Was his life yours to take?”
“Yes.” His immediate absolution gave me pause.
If I killed someone, I would have second-guessed everything … forever.
Slade answered me with the ease of confirming he took out the trash or brushed his teeth before bed.
With his honesty exposed, I took my chance on a few other pressing questions. “Are you a drug dealer?”
“What do you think?”
“I think I deserve a straight answer.”
“So … yes. You think I’m a drug dealer.”
I shook my head. “I didn’t say that.”
“No. You asked it; so in your mind, it’s a possibility.”
“That’s not fair.” I stood. Taking a few steps back, both physically and emotionally.
“I haven’t asked you if you’re a whore or an escort. I haven’t asked if you torture animals.”
“Wh-what are you talking about?” My fingers combed through my hair as I closed my eyes and tried to make sense of our conversation.
“I know there’s no way you’d sell your body for money or torture animals, so I don’t need proof and I don’t need to ask you.”
Parking a hand on my side, I used my other hand to pinch my lower lip for a few seconds as I watched Jericho shift on the grass, resting his head on the ground. “Where were you the week I watched Jericho for you? Where were you the day my dad arrived?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Why?”
“Because I’d lose my job if I told you.”
“That’s ridiculous.” My arms crossed over my chest.
“I deliver things.”
“Drugs?”
“No.” He leaned his head back against the tree trunk and closed his eyes.
“Underage girls?”
“No.”
My outrageous question didn’t make him flinch. That fed the toxic lump in the bottom of my stomach. If underage girls didn’t make him flinch, even a little bit, then he wasn’t working part-time for UPS, accommodating the Amazon addictions of the masses.
“Is it legal? Your job?”
Dropping his chin, he opened his eyes and studied me for several seconds. “It’s a gray area.”
Forcing out a long, exasperated breath, I pivoted. “I have class.”
“Are we studying tonight?”
Before I had the chance to turn toward him, he was at my back, his hands sliding around my waist, his face burrowing into my neck.
“Why should I?” I bristled.
His lips ghosted along my ear. “Because it was me.”
Because it was me …
Because it was me …
Because it was me …
It took me a few seconds to blink, swallow, or breathe for that matter. “Wylder …” I interlaced my fingers with his at my waist. “I have a feeling you’re not going to like this … but I’m not going to be able to stop myself from doing it anyway.”
“What’s that?”
“Loving you.”
His grip on me loosened. I let my hands drop from his, giving him space. When I no longer felt any part of him touching me, I forced my feet forward.
Right. Left. Right. Left.
No glances back.
No making my case.
No more words.
I wasn’t asking for permission to love him.
I wasn’t asking him to love me back.
I wasn’t asking for anything.
Chapter Sixteen
Wylder
“I’m not a babysitter.” I slid into the booth at the back of the dark, third-rate cafe, just before the dinner rush. The clattering of plates and blend of conversations provided its own privacy. The stench of overcooked grease hung heavily in the air.
Abe flicked his lighter several times, knowing damn well he wasn’t allowed to smoke in the restaurant. It gave him something to do with his fidgety hands. “Last I checked, you’re whatever I need you to be.”