Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 28432 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 142(@200wpm)___ 114(@250wpm)___ 95(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28432 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 142(@200wpm)___ 114(@250wpm)___ 95(@300wpm)
I fill a glass of water and watch her gulp it down. As soon as she’s done, I fill it again. She takes smaller sips this time, watching me as I watch her.
When she finally puts it down on the table, I drop to my knees in front of the chair. I brush her hair back from her face and inspect her. My gaze roams over her as I try to unlock all of her secrets. “How old are you?”
“I’m legal. How old are you?” She answers in a tone that’s way too casual.
I grip her chin in my hand. Her skin is soft and smooth. “That’s not what I asked.”
She rolls her eyes. “Nineteen. Happy?”
I search her face, trying to discover if she’s telling the truth. But nothing else she’s said has been untruthful. So far, she’s just dodged questions. She hasn’t outright lied to me.
The timer beeps to let me know the lasagna is done. I drop my hand and rise to my feet, ignoring the way my hip and knee protests. The thing about having a fucked-up hip is that eventually it fucks up all the other joints that are busy compensating for it.
“How old are you?” She asks.
Old enough to be her father. Old enough to know better than to put my dirty hands on someone so pure and sweet and innocent.
Despite the tough girl act she’s trying to put on, I see through it. My little runaway is scared and overwhelmed. She’s in desperate need of a protector, and I’m the warrior willing to fight hell itself for her.
I plate her food and place it on the table before I take a seat across from her. I try to think of something to say but years of silence with only Princess for company hasn’t made me a great conversationalist. But that’s OK because Molly fills the quiet after a few moments.
“This is so good. How did you learn to cook like this? I can cook some. I tend to burn things which isn’t my fault. I get distracted with my clay. It’s hard when you have something you love that just completely absorbs you, isn’t it? I mean, real life is hard and I’d rather live inside my creations.”
I nod at what she’s saying. When I’m welding, time loses all meaning. There’s only me and the heat and the twisting of the metal. Still, it’s not lost on me that she said real life is hard. She’s using her art to escape, a feeling I’ve known all too well.
I wait for her to go on, to tell me more about her work. When she doesn’t, I frown and finally ask, “What do you do with the clay?”
Her face lights up. She looks so damn happy that I’ve responded. “I’m making a fairy village. I started with just the fairies then I thought they needed a place to live and now...” Her voice trails off. She shrugs like it doesn’t hurt before continuing, “It doesn’t matter, I guess. I left them behind.”
I want to reach out and take her hand. I want to offer her physical comfort. My body aches to do that, my arm tingling with the need to touch her. But I refuse to allow myself to move toward her. “I left everything behind when I ran away too.”
4
MOLLY
He could be telling me the truth. He could be playing a game, trying to get me to slip up and reveal where I come from. But I can’t risk that. No doubt my father would pay good money to get me back.
We drift into silence again and I fight the overwhelming urge to start talking. I don’t like silence. It’s loud and oppressive and so cruel, like being left alone to grow up in a big house. It’s why I started making my clay creations. My designs were something to talk to and with the fairy village, I felt like I had friends. It’s a stupid thought that has me blinking back tears.
I finish my food and push to my feet. “Thank you.”
“You don’t have anything on you,” Trace says, still sitting.
I lost my backpack with a few scant supplies at a gas station. I was distracted by that damn hotdog. “I’m traveling light.”
“And broke,” he points out.
“So?” I can feel my body tightening. Here I thought he was a nice guy. I thought he was kind. Guess that’s just further proof that I’m a stupid, naive girl.
“Want to earn some cash before you go?”
I can’t believe I put myself in this situation. I went to some strange man’s cabin. He’s twice my size and he could easily overpower me. But then if he planned to hurt me, why didn’t he do it when I fainted earlier? It doesn’t make sense for him to wait until I’m conscious and can fight back. “I’m not going to suck your dick.”