Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 153268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 766(@200wpm)___ 613(@250wpm)___ 511(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 766(@200wpm)___ 613(@250wpm)___ 511(@300wpm)
Do it for Dad. Don’t quit now.
Fear clogged my throat, cutting my oxygen supply. My heart pulsated violently in my chest, and my hands felt like two pillars of salt, heavy and foreign to the rest of my body. A persistent, dull pain throbbed in my right shin, reminding me of that day all those years ago. I was reliving that moment all over again. The memory crisp, vivid, and in full color.
The woods.
The blood.
The laughter.
“Leave the weirdo to die. It’s not like anyone’s gonna miss her.”
Air. I needed air. I sucked in a breath, but my windpipe was crammed with lint. My vision swam. My eyesight became milky, fogged with terror; my mind screamed at my feet to stop moving, but they continued running of their own accord, going harder, faster; I looked around frantically. I wasn’t on Main Street anymore. At some point, I had veered off course. There wasn’t a soul on this residential, tree-lined street. No one to help me.
Calm down. Everything is okay. You just need to figure out how to stop moving.
But my brakeless feet wouldn’t slow. My body was a broken vehicle, and all I could do was swerve it off the pathway to try to soften the blow.
“She dead yet?”
“Smells dead to me.”
“I think it’s the cabbage. Dirty Russian whore and her stinky food.”
“Quick, let’s go before her nerdiac friend finds out and gets us in trouble.”
Tears needled my eyes, and I choked on the little air that still swirled in my lungs. Why had Dad asked me to do this? How careless could he have been? How cruel? This was a mistake. I’d have to—
Thwack.
Dirt filled my mouth, cold and crunchy. My face was pancaked over loose construction sand. I spat grit, slowly digesting that I had fallen down. Tripped over a stone and dived right onto my face. My right leg was scorching with pain.
I needed to move, stand up, call for help, but found that I was too paralyzed to do anything at all. The floodgate of memories had been broken, and the trauma I kept at bay was rushing like a river, drowning every positive thought in my head.
“Look at her leg.”
“Ugh, gross.”
“She’s never gonna run again.”
“Dot?”
The last voice belonged to the present. It also belonged to someone who absolutely despised me. What was Row doing awake, anyway? Did he ever sleep? Was he a vampire? I mean, he was painfully beautiful and permanently sulky. Though he did cook with garlic and wasn’t destroyed by fire.
“Are you hurt?” His low, husky baritone rumbled over my head. My face was still stuck in the mud, which was currently my preferred location. Now was not a good time to face your former crush turned boss from hell. I shook my head without lifting it up, feeling so thoroughly mortified, I prayed for a deadly heart attack to spare me the conversation.
“Can you move?” he gruffed.
“Are you asking because I’m blocking your path or because you’re worried about me?” I moaned.
“Can’t afford to be one server short.”
“And they say romance is dead.” My lips moved around the claylike mud.
“Plus, you’re on my property and I can smell an insurance claim from miles away.”
Normally, I was the first to appreciate a good sarcastic quip. But I was currently spiraling worse than a Slinky over my pathetic attempt to run two miles, so all I managed was whimpering into the mud. I felt like an injured animal, cornered by a big, bad wolf.
“Is it okay if I touch you?” His voice hovered above my head. He sounded like he was standing on a treetop. How tall was this man? “Just wanna make sure nothing is broken.”
I am broken, Row. Permanently so. Even if my body is all healed.
“Gently,” I croaked, feeling so pathetic I wanted to cry.
“Of course.”
Row placed his palm between my shoulder blades. It was warm, heavy, and reassuring. A hint of a tremble danced through his fingertips. It wasn’t too cold out, so it gave me pause. Maybe he was an alcoholic. That could also explain his mood swings.
“You gonna stay there for long?” he inquired.
“Maybe enough for a quick power nap,” I mumbled into the dirt. “I thought you were going to check my leg isn’t broken?”
“It’s not your leg I’m worried about.”
I hated that he always did that. Seemed to know so much more about me than anyone else. It was ridiculous, but sometimes I felt like he knew me better than Mom. He always knew when I lied and when I needed something I was too chicken to ask for. Like right now? I really needed that big, warm, reassuring palm on me.
“How did it happen?” he asked quietly, his hand still on my back. I wanted him to keep it there forever. I also wanted him to go away and never come back.