Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 71632 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71632 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
“No, no,” she murmurs. “No, I don’t want you to call anyone. I don’t ... I don’t have anyone.”
Well, that kind of sucks.
“Okay, it’ll be okay.”
An ambulance arrives about ten minutes later and, carefully, they get Theresa out of the car and put her on a stretcher. “Has she any family who will be riding with her to the hospital?”
She glances at me, and I swear, she looks desperate. God dammit. I’d be a monster to send her off on her own. At least if I make sure she gets to the hospital safely and call someone, probably Mason, much to his dismay, then I’ll know I’ve done the right thing.
“I’ll come with her,” I say, raising a hand.
The paramedic nods, and we climb into the ambulance.
As we head toward the hospital, they do a few tests, ask Theresa a few questions, and then everything falls silent.
“You didn’t have to ride with me,” she says, and I glance at her.
“I’m not cruel enough to leave you on your own; you just had a car accident. Someone needs to be with you until you have help at the hospital.”
She bites her bottom lip, and then nods before saying, “Please, don’t call Mason.”
I shrug. “Then you’re going to have to give me someone else to call.”
“Okay.”
I stare down at my hands and realize I don’t have anything on me anyway. I don’t have my phone, or my purse. Then I realize I left Mason’s house wide open when I ran out. I wasn’t thinking, I just heard the crash and hightailed it out the door. Dammit. As soon as I get to the hospital, I’m going to have to call Mason and tell him his house is open, but Theresa really doesn’t want me to call.
I’m between a rock and a hard place.
We arrive at the hospital and they take her right in to get checked out. I wait, and wait, and wait. I can’t catch anyone for long enough to borrow a phone. After about two hours, Theresa finally hobbles out, looking stiff, but not in a really bad way. I walk over, stopping in front of her. “Are you okay?”
“I’m all clear, they said I can go.”
“I don’t have a phone or I would have called someone for you.”
“It’s okay,” she says, “I’ve called a friend to come and collect me. Do you need the phone to get a lift home?”
I nod. “That would be great, thank you.”
I call Chantelle, who agrees to come and get me in a few moments. After all that, I didn’t call Mason. I’ll tell him what happened tonight, but I don’t want to risk him upsetting Theresa. The relationship between the two of them is strained and, honestly, none of my business. So, I’ll respect her wishes for now.
“Thank you,” Theresa says, and I glance at her.
“Oh, you’re welcome.”
“I know you probably don’t like me a great deal, but I appreciate you helping me the way you did.”
I nod and give her a weak smile. “No problem.”
Chantelle arrives fifteen minutes later, and the second we step out of the hospital, she asks, “Was that Mason’s sister? The one you told me about? She looks exactly like him.”
“It was, and it’s a long story. When we get home, I’ll tell you.”
“You’re going to have to tell me on the way. I’m heading to work, so it’ll be a drop and run.”
So, I get in her car.
And I tell her.
Then, I try and figure out what I’m going to tell Mason.
~18~
MASON
My hands shake.
They fucking shake.
I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I can’t do anything but stare at the monitor in front of me, not believing for a single fucking second what I’m seeing.
There is no way.
No fucking way.
She wouldn’t do that to me. She wouldn’t, not after every fucking thing we’ve been through. There is no way what we’ve got is fake, but if what I’m seeing in front of me is even close to being real, then everything she’s let me believe, is a fucking lie.
I watch on the security camera installed in my bedroom, the one I check daily, and see Saskia walk straight over to my safe. She fiddles with it for a moment before it pops open. I have never told her the combination for my safe, which, stupidly, is my mother’s birthdate. But, I have told her all about my mother, and that there is expensive jewelry in that safe.
Because I fucking trusted her.
I trusted her.
But I can see her, clear as day, same hair, same eyes, same fucking beautiful body, sticking her hands in my safe and pulling out the jewelry my mother left me, jewelry that is worth fucking thousands, possibly even hundreds of thousands. There are rare diamonds and pieces in there, passed down from generation to generation. Some of it is over a hundred years old. The money that could be made from that is high.