Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 67144 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67144 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Troy’s eyes blaze. He balls the blankets in his hands, squeezing them until his knuckles turn white.
“Now let me ask you something,” I say. “What’s the difference between this conversation and kissing me? I’m curious.”
“This is just a conversation. But if I kiss you, that’s different. I’ll want to do it again. And you might get the impression that I’m the kind of guy that a girl like you could have a real relationship with. That assumption will cause problems.”
“Because you’re not that kind of guy?”
“No. I’m not.”
“Why?”
He falls onto his back and looks at the ceiling. “I’m fucked up.”
“Aren’t we all?”
“I mean it.”
“So let’s say you’re right. You’re fucked up. Does that make you unqualified to be happy?”
He doesn’t answer me.
“We’re all fucked up in one way or the other, Troy.”
“I’m thirty-seven. You’re twenty … six?”
“Close enough.”
He sighs, rolling onto his side to face me. “You have your whole life ahead of you. You can get married. Have kids. Be the mother that your mother was to you.”
“And you can’t do those things?”
“No.”
His answer is without hesitation—straightforward and simple. It hurts my heart. Why does he think he’s bound to be alone?
“I think you sell yourself short,” I say.
“I think you don’t really know me.”
“I think that might be true. It’s sad that I have to trust you with my life, and you can’t trust me enough to let me know who you really are.”
Silence falls in the room.
I move my leg away from him. “What do you think, hypothetically speaking because I’m not trying to kiss you right now, would happen if we kissed? I’m just curious about your thought process because it provides a little insight into your psyche.” I narrow my eyes, thinking. “Are you trying to convince me you’re unworthy so I won’t want to get to know you?”
“Maybe.”
“Well, first, I don’t believe that for a second. Second, you should know me better by now. The entire world thinks my dad is a piece of shit, and until he shows me that himself, I believe he’s not. I believe in giving people the benefit of the doubt. And if you think that I won’t give you, of all people, that grace, then you’re ridiculous.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Maybe not. But it’s a damn shame that you live your life alone when you have so much to offer someone.”
He studies me, and I let him. Maybe he’ll see I’m telling the truth.
Not that it matters. This conversation is more about me not thinking about people wanting to kill me than it is anything else. It’s a distraction. But I do wish that Troy would listen to me. I won’t hold my breath.
I yawn and snuggle into my pillows. He gets up and turns off the light.
“I’ll let you get some sleep,” he says.
But as soon as I’m about to close my eyes, my heart pounds. Hard. Shadows dance across the walls, and a cold sweat coats my back.
Suddenly, I remember every word of that email.
Run or die.
Don’t alert the authorities, or I’ll make the choice for you.
I can’t stop thinking about someone being in my house. About the nuance of those terrifying images of me out living my life while being watched. How long have they been watching me? How did I never notice?
They were in my bedroom … could they be in here, too?
I know it’s not likely. It may even be impossible. But it’s all raw and fresh in my mind and still very real, and I don’t want to be alone.
“Troy?” I ask, my voice wavering.
“Yeah?”
I take a deep breath, thankful for the shroud of darkness. “I’m not as brave as you think I am.”
He moves silently across the room and climbs into bed next to me. He doesn’t touch me or even come too close.
I smile all the same. “Thank you.”
My eyelids get heavy, and my breathing slows. Sleep welcomes me into its peacefulness, and I know it’s because of Troy’s presence. His warmth. His protection.
I’m safe with him.
“Dahlia?”
“Yeah?” I ask sleepily.
“I’m not as brave as you think I am either.”
Before I can answer him, I drift off into a land of dreams.
Chapter Thirteen
Troy
Boom.
A crack of thunder shakes the house, coaxing me from a deep sleep.
Rain hammers the windows in a relentless assault as bolts of lightning streak the dark sky. The wind whips outside, bending the palm trees at unnatural angles. It’s a dreary, ominous morning. The only positive is the woman lying beside me.
Dahlia’s strawberry-hued hair is spread across the white pillowcase, her lips pressed together in a sweet pout. I woke up at dawn and watched her sleep for an hour. She’s so peaceful, so fucking beautiful, that it’s hard to comprehend.
How is she real? How is she here, in this bed, with me?
I lie quietly and mull over yesterday. I wait for a moment of panic to rip through me. But it doesn’t come.