Total pages in book: 184
Estimated words: 188108 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 941(@200wpm)___ 752(@250wpm)___ 627(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 188108 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 941(@200wpm)___ 752(@250wpm)___ 627(@300wpm)
Right.
Shit.
Tamsyn rushed out of the living room, past Salem’s mum.
She didn’t know why those words hit her so hard. It wasn’t like his mum knew the truth. That she wasn’t actually taking advantage of them.
But aren’t you? Or taking advantage of their feelings for you.
Shit.
She slid her shoes on and reached for her coat. Where was it? The only other jacket in here was one that Salem had bought her the other day. It didn’t feel right to take it somehow, so she just drew on her old sneakers and headed out the door.
A sense of melancholy, of wrongness hit her and she wanted to turn back. She wanted to go back into that beautiful house and explain exactly who she was.
But who was she, really?
A liar.
That’s who.
And even if Salem’s mum didn’t know who she was, she knew that she wasn’t good enough for her son.
No, it was best that she go.
In the back of her mind, she knew that she should wait for the guys. That she should knock on the door and demand her phone and call them.
But that voice was easily silenced as she walked down the footpath.
Perhaps this was a good thing. She was getting far too close to them. If Salem’s mother could see the truth about her, then she was certain she would tell him.
And then he’d know and so would the others.
That she was definitely bad news and no good for them.
Salem couldn’t ever remember getting home from work this early. Sometimes, he’d sleep in the break room to avoid coming back here.
But not anymore. There was actually a spring in his step as he walked to the front door and unlocked it.
Because he couldn’t wait to see Tamsyn.
An alert beeped on his phone.
Shit. More unrest in Ireland? What the fuck was going on? Criminal activity was high. Patrick O’Connor was just going to gain more popularity with his call for softer gun laws, despite his sometimes conservative views in other areas.
Salem pushed that out of his mind. He’d done some shopping during his lunch break today, something that he never usually took, and he was carrying those bags. He just hoped that she liked what was in them.
The stuff he’d chosen was a bit different than the things she’d picked out. But those were Little clothes. And these were things for adult Tamsyn.
Even though she seemed to like to wear her Little clothes all the time.
He was hoping that he could convince her to slip into Little headspace for the entire weekend. Maybe they’d take her on that trip to the seaside.
Yeah, maybe he should suggest that. And they could see if they could take a three-day weekend. She’d look adorable building a sandcastle.
As he opened the front door, the scent of cooking hit him.
What the hell? He knew that Tamsyn couldn’t cook. Roman had told them about the sandwich she’d made him. What did she think she was doing, trying to cook?
Or had he ordered in?
“Hello? Tamsyn?”
“Hello. Salem. I’m in the kitchen.”
Salem froze. Because that was most assuredly not Tamsyn.
So where was she?
He rushed into the kitchen, still wearing his coat.
“Salem! I didn’t expect you so early.” His mother turned to smile at him. She was standing at the stove with something cooking on the stovetop. There was a wooden spoon in her hand.
“Mum, what are you doing here?” he asked, glancing around.
No Tamsyn.
Shit. Had his mother intimidated her so much that she was hiding out upstairs?
“I’ve come to make you dinner since you missed last Sunday night dinner. You said you were also busy working this weekend so I thought I would come to you.”
Bollocks.
He had said that. Because he hadn’t wanted to go to dinner last Sunday night and leave Tamsyn. He’d been worried that she would insist on going home. And that wasn’t acceptable to him or the others.
Speaking of which . . .
“Ahh, right. That’s nice of you. Is Roman upstairs?” Tamsyn had to be with him.
“No. I don’t know where he is. I thought he was, but when I went to check his room was empty.”
Shit.
“You didn’t touch anything, did you?” he asked urgently.
“No, of course not,” she huffed. “I know not to touch his stuff anymore.”
She’d gotten it into her head one day that she needed to tidy up Roman’s room and she’d moved everything around, not putting it back right.
Roman had been in a grouchy mood for weeks over it.
“Good. Wait, he’s not up there? Then where the hell is he? And where is Tamsyn?”
“Tamsyn? Well, she’s where she’s meant to be,” his mother replied.
A bad feeling filled his stomach. “What do you mean by that?”
“She’s gone home.”
“Home? Shit.”
“Salem! Language!” she snapped.
“Why would she go home?” This was meant to be her home. “I’ll need to call her.” He grabbed his phone from his pocket and started calling her.