Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 86741 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86741 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
“I—I mean . . .” He sighed and closed his eyes, then lifted his hands in the air and focused on me, as if trying to calm a frightened animal. “Please just come back to bed, Samira. I don’t care about the book. I don’t care that you’re staying up late, I just . . . I want you with me. You, my wife.”
I nodded, trying desperately hard to keep my breaths steady, and as he offered a hand, I took it. My hands trembled as we made our way toward the mansion, and he probably assumed it was from the cold, but it wasn’t.
I was terrified.
When we reached the bedroom, I put the journal in the bottom drawer of my nightstand and placed my phone on the top of it. And as we lay down and he wrapped his arms around me, holding me close—holding me to him as if I were his prisoner and could never leave—I came to the realization that my brother had every right to be worried about me.
This was the side of Roland that Melanie had mentioned. The possessive, territorial, hostile side. A side I didn’t feel safe with at all. I waited until Roland fell asleep again and, with his arms still wrapped around my waist, I slowly reached over to my nightstand, picked up my phone, and sent Kell the address to the mansion, along with one little word he would understand without me having to spell it out.
Hurry.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
To my utter surprise, I fell asleep right next to Roland, even with all that was on my mind. But when I woke up, his arms weren’t wrapped around me. His side of the bed was vacant and when I ran my hand over it, it was cool to the touch, which meant he’d been gone for quite some time.
I reached for my phone and there were three unread text messages from Kell, along with at least a dozen missed calls.
What’s going on, Samira?
I’m worried as fuck. Why aren’t you answering me?
I’m coming there right now.
His last message gave me relief. But not for long. As I sat up, I noticed someone sitting in the upholstered chair in the corner of the room.
“Oh my God!” I screamed. “Roland? What the hell?”
Alarmed, Roland stood and held his hands up in the air. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s fine,” I breathed, clutching my chest. “Why are you sitting there? What’s going on?”
“Oh, I uh . . . I had breakfast made for you. I saw you moving around when I came back to check on you and kind of just . . . waited for you to wake up after getting the food. Weird, I know. I just didn’t want you to think I was avoiding you today.” He turned to his left and picked up a tray with food and a drink on it, then walked up to me with his head slightly bowed, placing the tray down on my nightstand. On the tray was French toast, scrambled eggs, and a fruit cup, along with a cup of apple juice.
“What’s all this?” I asked, sitting up with my back against the headboard.
“I had Yadira make it for you.” He smiled, then shifted his weight from foot to foot. “I, um . . . I owe you an apology for my behavior last night.” He stood several steps away from me, scratching his head awkwardly. “I didn’t mean to snap at you the way I did.”
“Oh.” I pressed my lips, unsure what to say. I wasn’t going to tell him that it was okay because it wasn’t. It was far from okay to snap the way he did and it made me wonder how often he did it with people when he didn’t get his way, or how close he was to grabbing me the same way he did Melanie when they were in Hawaii.
Stepping closer, he dropped to his knees on the floor while reaching for my hand. I let him take it and cradle it in his hands.
“There are things about me, Samira, that I know I need to control. I have a temper problem and I know that. I bottle things up, hide my emotions, and then I blow up when it all feels like too much. I’m working on that about myself, though. I want to be more patient. More understanding. I know you need your space and you probably feel solace in that shed, which is fine, but . . . it’s just that when you run off in the middle of the night like that, it reminds me of when Melanie used to do it. She would go there to avoid me and I never knew how to handle it.”
“How does that remind you of her?” I asked, even though I knew the answer. After reading her journals I felt like I had a clearer understanding of what went on inside Roland’s head.