Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 140742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
“And then you show up talking all this shit about Titus and calling me a liar and send me footage that seems so foreign to me, I can barely recognize myself,” I add, seething. “I have no recollection of that night after I went back inside. My last memory is waking up the next morning on my couch and hearing what happened.” I unclench my fists and point at myself. “I drove her there because I was in town and didn’t have a game, and couldn’t let her drive home like that again. I was supposed to make sure she was safe and…”
The sob that rattles through me is so loud that I don’t get to finish my sentence. I rush to my room, slamming the door behind me, and go to the bathroom, doing the same and locking it. The wood panels on the door are rough against my back as I slide down and bury my face in my hands. I am so freaking tired. I hate him for making me relive this.
I hate these memories and the reminder that I failed someone else who needed help. Hearing so many people say they think she did that to herself is tearing me apart. I hate that I have no recollection of what happened that night after my argument with Titus. I hate that I gave my stepfather my word to not tell anyone who he was there to see, because it’s an open case he’s working on.
When I’m done crying, I wipe my face, stand up, turn the lights on, and switch on the shower. My head throbs with a massive headache that makes peeling off the leather jumpsuit more difficult than usual. I get in the shower and start washing, but my shaky knees force me to sit down under the spray. I know I locked the door, so when I hear it open and shut, it’s clear that Finn picked the lock.
Right now, I don’t have the energy to care. I keep my head down and my eyes closed. After a moment, the shower door opens and shuts, and long muscular legs and arms encase mine as he sits behind me. He moves my wet hair and kisses the back of my neck. I hate the shiver that rocks through me. I hate the way my stomach dips. I hate how good—how right—being in his arms feels.
“You should leave,” I manage to say. My voice is so hoarse and quiet, I wouldn’t be surprised if he doesn’t hear me.
“I’m sorry,” he says against my skin and wraps his arms around me.
His tenderness makes me cry harder, and I hate that too. When I’m done crying, I take a few deep breaths until they’re less shaky.
“I wish I’d called her more often,” he says when he finally speaks. “Ham told me he was worried about her. I should’ve listened.”
I keep my eyes on the white tiles in front of me. “Will knew?”
“He said she was partying more than usual, but I figured she was just doing the college thing.”
He kisses my shoulder blade and lets go of me. Even though the water is lukewarm, I feel like I’m freezing without his touch. I hear him open a bottle behind me and then his hands are lathering shampoo into my hair. I shut my eyes, trying to fight a new wave of tears at the unexpected tenderness. He continues washing my hair in silence.
“Everyone warned me about her, you know? Mostly Livie, but even Dame was worried.”
His fingers stop for a moment. “What did they say?”
“Livie said Mal treated her friends like possessions, and she was right. She’d get pissed off when I had too many away games or hung out with Livie, Dame, or Tate more than her. I probably shouldn’t have let her back in my life.” He helps me stand, and I squeeze my eyes shut as he washes off the conditioner. “But she was so lost, and I wanted to help her.”
“Of course you did.” He smiles with a soft expression I’ve never seen on his face.
For a moment, I think he’ll kiss me, but he reaches for the soap and starts cleaning himself. By the time we finish showering, the water is freezing. He switches it off and we get out to dry ourselves. My stomach dips when I catch him staring at me, as I’m wringing water from my hair over the sink.
I let go of my hair and stand up straight. “What?”
“You’re so beautiful,” he says quietly, as he closes the distance between us. He brings his hand down, his long fingers fanning the back of my neck as he runs his calloused thumb over my cheek. For a moment, he just gets lost in staring, and my stomach dips repeatedly. He brings his lips to mine in a slow, lingering kiss that makes a million butterflies take flight deep in my belly. When he pulls away, he sets his forehead against mine and exhales.