Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 76698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
She was in the emptiness of the chair across from me, the lack of someone at my side, learning, asking questions, occasionally touching me, pressing a sweet kiss to my neck, my arm, my fucking hand.
Even as the world around me warmed up day by day, it felt colder and colder inside me.
My house that had always been so comfortable, my own little haven in a world I was trying to avoid, suddenly felt hollow.
Nothing felt the same.
She had touched everywhere in the house.
She had touched places in me that I didn't know existed.
She'd softened ragged edges, stitched back together things that had been torn to tatters.
In such a short amount of time.
I couldn't help but wonder what else, if given the time, she could have shown to me about myself.
It was on the fifth day after she left when someone - other than Miller who daily, and in explicit detail, told me what a shit I was - reached out.
Not Finn.
Or even Gunner, ever a fan of reaching out to rub salt in bleeding wounds.
No.
It was the boss man himself.
"I'm in town," he informed me, not one for pleasantries.
"You coming in?"
"Fuck no," he said, sounding like he was laughing at the very idea. And, well, the image of him trekking through the woods for hours in one of those suits he was so fond of was pretty fucking funny. "You're going to come out and meet me for coffee. There's a place down the street from the hotel. Has outside seating. Meet me there this afternoon."
There was no room for debating, for me coming up with excuses for why I wasn't going to do that. Without, of course, admitting that this was the worst possible time for me to have to come out of the woods, to have to face the world, when I was already feeling something. Something new. Something terrifying.
Vulnerable.
I couldn't say anything.
Because he had already hung up.
I didn't have to go. It wasn't like he was going to come in and drag me out. Or fire me even.
But for some reason, I found myself grabbing my wallet and keys, making the dogs stay to keep the animals safe.
And I took off at a jog, cutting the usual time in half.
And by the time I was in the truck and driving out toward civilization, I realized I was starting to breathe easier, like a part of me was craving this, like I was searching out connection with someone else.
Which, well, was completely asinine.
But it was what it seemed like as the trees became nothing but an image in the rearview as I broke into society for the first time in since that day I drove Meadow to the hospital.
It felt like ages ago.
Yet way too soon.
I parked the truck, making my way down the street, hearing the blare of radios, the honks of horns, the chattering of one-sided phone conversations.
Normally, my shoulders would hunch up, trying to block off the assault.
But just this once, it didn't seem to bother me as much as I made my way toward where Quin was sitting, two coffees across from him where he was somehow sitting alone at the cafe even though the weather was nice and the coffee shop was packed. Knowing him, he'd thrown money at it.
And we were about to have a clandestine meeting like a couple of fucking mobsters.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, sitting down, taking the coffee between my hands.
"We found him," he told me, gaze unwavering.
"Found who?"
"The guy who hurt Meadow."
Even her fucking name hurt.
It took actual work not to rub at the sore sensation in my chest.
"Who is it?" I demanded, realizing my voice was too loud when someone who was walking past jolted and shrieked softly. Lowering my voice, I went on. "Some low life gang banger?"
To that, Quin snorted. "He's a stockbroker."
"A stockbroker," I repeated, the words not quite sinking in because they made no sense.
"I know, right? It explains the cocaine, and nothing else. I mean, who the fuck deals in cocaine these days? It's all heroin and meth. The only people who can afford cocaine are stockbrokers and businessmen."
"I don't understand," I admitted, brows furrowing. "She had no man in her life. How did she come across some stockbroker on her way to get coffee who would want to hurt her?"
"That's the question, isn't it?" he asked, tipping up his coffee.
"How did you find him?"
"Nia. I figured she had given up on the case. Turns out, she's fucking obsessive about shit. She can't be clueless. She's got to figure it out. So, apparently, she was working on hacking all the cameras both up where Meadow's last memories were then all around the Pine Barrens down in the area where she was found. She found two matching cars, matching plates. Then she hacked into the fucking DMV to get a name. I think she needs a raise," he added, shaking his head.