Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 154728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 619(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 619(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Something so precious. Me. Us.
He wasn’t looking at me like I was precious.
“Did she call you back, Avery?” he asked, indignation carving off every word so they were pointed.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. The rain pounded louder now, the smell of the storm assaulting my senses, mingling with Kane’s ire that was more powerful than the storm itself.
“You don’t know?” he repeated, sounding so cold. Cruel. “How is it you couldn’t know if your one connection with me, the father of your fuckin’ baby, called you back?”
“I changed my number,” I answered, my voice shrinking more with every moment.
“You changed your number.” Again, repeating my answer in that tone.
I was looking down at the pots on either side of my front door. Distressed gray with dying blooms sitting in them because Kiera had arranged them, planted them, then demanded I keep them alive. As if doing anything beyond keeping myself and a baby thriving was doable.
“Look at me.” The command was harsh, razor sharp.
If words could make you bleed, I would’ve been dripping on the floor.
Despite the pain, despite fearing I wouldn’t be able to handle his gaze, I obeyed his command. And the disdain on his face shredded me further.
“Why would you break every thread you had connecting you to me on the word of one asshole?” he asked carefully.
A bead of sweat trickled down the side of my face. “Because someone leaked it, my number. I was getting calls, texts, death threats.” It wasn’t a lie. And it was awfully convenient that my number leaked right after my visit to Brax, before Victoria was able to get back to me.
I was suddenly realizing what was so glaringly obvious, it was worse than a ‘twist’ in a poorly-written detective novel.
Kane twitched at the ‘death threats’ part.
“It was all Brax.” Shame spilled over me at my stupidity. “He orchestrated it all. To get me away. For whatever reason.”
Not for whatever reason. I’d come between him and Kane. I’d seen him for what he was. So he’d wanted to punish me. Ruin me.
“Yeah,” Kane said in a dead voice. “And you made it fuckin’ easy for him. You didn’t fight for us.”
What was left unsaid was that I didn’t fight for him. I could’ve wept in response to the pain he was veiling with anger and contempt.
“You gonna let me in, or you gonna continue to make me stand out here like a fuckin’ unwanted houseguest?” he asked. No, demanded.
We had been hashing out something immensely painful and personal on my front porch. Luckily, I didn’t have neighbors, my cottage located at the edge of town, down a long drive with the dense woods bordering my property, giving me the illusion that I was the only person left in the world.
Which is what I had wanted, to hide there. To rot there, maybe. Wallow in my pain and self-pity and absolute fear of what was to come.
I didn’t say anything, just moved my body in answer. He took that as permission and shouldered his way past. I stepped back in time, wondering if he would’ve pushed me if I hadn’t. Surely, he wouldn’t. Kane wouldn’t get physical with a woman, let alone a pregnant woman. Certainly not with me. Or so I’d thought. The old Avery wanted to call him out on that, tell him that despite his anger, he didn’t get to treat me poorly. I wanted to tell him to leave just so I could breathe.
Yet trying to argue with Kane at that juncture would’ve been unwise. Considering the state he was in, there was no winning with him, even on my best day. That was far from my best day. And it was pouring rain, he’d come on his bike. He would get soaked.
Realizing my own mistake in quickly believing those lies and then being hit with how pissed Kane was at me, seeing him after all that time was … a lot. No, it wasn’t Kane’s outrage, it was his pain that was hiding so poorly underneath his anger. I’d hurt him. Deeply.
I stood at the door for a little longer than might’ve been normal after he stormed through, holding on to the doorknob to stay upright and blinking at the motorcycle in the driveway.
I only caught myself when the sound of the back sliding door and the dog’s rabid barking jostled me into the present.
I rushed to shut the door then ran down the hall to the back door before my dog could try to maul Kane. That was the last thing I needed. Not that Kane couldn’t handle himself with an overgrown, untrained seventy-pound dog. The fight would likely be even. Or tilted in Kane’s favor. He just had that aura about him that said he could handle any threat. Most especially now, furious and obviously just out of prison.