Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 117820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
I’ve thought a lot about the former though the latter hasn’t crossed my mind, I have considered smothering the old cow while she sleeps.
“What do you want me to say?”
“That you’ll stick up for yourself,” he bellows, gripping his hair with both hands. “Fucking stick up for yourself!”
I want to scream at him. I want to tell him to mind his own business but I can’t because he’s right but it’s all so much easier said than done.
“It’s not that simple, Matthew!”
“Fine, if you won’t tell your mee-maw how it’s gonna be,” Poppy interrupts, smiling sadly at me, “then at least stop letting her control every fucking aspect of your life.”
“You don’t get an opinion when your momma just bought you a car,” I state simply and huff. “Fine. I have some money saved up.”
Poppy’s brown eyes sparkle with excitement. “How much?”
“About seven hundred dollars,” I answer and chew on the inside of my mouth. “Give or take.”
“How—"
“Where—”
They both ask at the same time.
I don’t want them to think I’m a total loser but I also don’t want to out myself so I lower my voice and reply, “I stole it.”
They both gape at me.
“You’re lying,” Matthew hisses, narrowing his hazel eyes on me.
I shake my head. “I’m not. I stole it from Mr. Martin when he tried to make me have sex with him. I was fourteen. Then he died like a couple of days later so I never spent the money and I never told anyone.”
So it’s a different version of the truth but it works.
“He did what?” Matthew grits. He’s so clearly affected by my confession. “Did he hurt you?”
I shake my head. “He didn’t get the chance. I ran.”
“Oh my God… that’s horrific but also badass.” Poppy throws her arms around my neck and squeezes so hard I can’t breathe. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I worried somebody thought I might have had something to do with his death.”
“Did you?” Matthew questions, smirking.
I lie again, it’s too easy to lie, “No. I didn’t hear about it until after school.”
They both believe me and both promise to take it to their graves.
I am getting so good at lying. Too good. It’s becoming easier to lie than it is to breathe.
26 years old
I call the garage, it’s only nine in the morning but I need to know what’s happening with it. I also need my things because I really want a shower.
“Faceless Mechanics, Emmy speaking, how may I help?” a young sounding woman calls cheerily after answering their local phone.
“Is Ren there?”
“Ren? I think so.” There’s noise as the phone clatters on the wooden desk. “Yeah, he’s working on some fancy-ass black Jag I think it is.”
“That would be mine,” I say cheerily, and laugh when she starts to splutter an apology. “Can I talk to him? I just need to know where we’re at with the fancy-ass black Jag.”
“I can do you one better, the boss-man just walked in.” Her tone becomes sickeningly sweet when she calls a friendly, “Hiiii Kaaane.”
“Morning, Emmy.”
I hate the way he says her name. It sounds too much like Immy. I’m the only Immy in this town.
Why am I feeling jealous over a fucking name? There’s something wrong with me.
“It’s the lady calling about her car.”
“Imogen?”
“I didn’t get her name.”
There’s rattling and I consider hanging up but I’m not a complete dick.
“Imogen?” he repeats but louder this time because he has the phone in his possession. “Or have you gotten your mother to call for you?”
“It’s me,” I respond after a second. I needed a moment to register the fact I’m hearing his voice and how different it sounds. It’s so deep and sultry but also gravelly and rough. Everything you want a man’s voice to be. “How goes my vehicle?”
“It goes nowhere. I need to source the part we need.”
“Fuck.”
“We can if you want to.”
I bristle. “Don’t be a pig.”
“You said it.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s not what I—!” I stop myself when I start to sound hysterical. “Please just fix my motherfucking car.”
That latter part of my tone wasn’t much of an improvement.
“I’m tryin’ Immy. We don’t got the parts on hand is all. I’m heading to Leander in twenty to see what they got. If they have it I will have you back on the road in no time. Okay?”
“Okay. Thank you.”
“My my, looks like becoming a city slicker got you some manners.”
“How do you know I’m a city slicker?”
He laughs loudly. “Apart from your pristine shoes, shit car and the fact you have a boyfriend called Webber?”
“Fair point.” I find myself grinning, transporting myself back in time to when we were allowed to make each other laugh.
He clears his throat and his tone changes. “So I’ll pick you up in thirty minutes or less.”
“Who? Me?”
“Not speaking to anyone else, am I, babe?”