Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 116708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 584(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 584(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
“It’s not a story! It was real life and real people and…and—” An onslaught of emotions crashed over me. I sagged against Dylan, keeping my legs under me by sheer force of will as memories shredded me.
How could something that happened so long ago suddenly feel so raw? Agony pierced through my anger, causing tears to fill my eyes. “It destroyed us all. But especially Truett. Don’t make him relive this. He will not come out the other side.”
He stared at me, his posture remaining resolute and uncaring. “Maybe if he cooperates, we can finally get him the help he so obviously needs?” He tipped his chin. “Just think about it.”
“Fuck you!” I yelled.
His slimy grin stretched as he lowered his sunglasses, and then casually strolled to a white BMW in the side parking lot.
Dylan didn’t fully release me until his taillights had disappeared around the corner.
“Jesus,” Lucille whispered. “What was that about?”
Angela turned to face me. “Are you okay?”
I stared at her without seeing, my mind spinning in a dozen different directions, all of them starting and finishing with one man. “I have to go,” I whispered.
Dylan moved into my side, hooking her arm with mine. “Yeah, come on. Let’s get you inside.”
I snatched it away, fear engulfing me. “No. I have to go.”
Her forehead crinkled. “That asshole’s gone. You don’t have to go anywhere.”
Oh, but she was wrong.
So fucking wrong.
“He’s not gone! He’s gonna go to Truett.” I darted inside and snatched my phone off the table and his raincoat from his booth. “I have to warn him.”
They all called my name.
Dylan begged me to wait.
Angela offered to go with me.
But just before I left, I pointed to the booth in the corner and looked at Lucille. “If the contractor gets here, nobody touches that. Do you understand me?”
She gave me a sharp nod. “Loud and clear, Boss.”
Truett
“Then she walked out with the coffee and everything just went…quiet. I couldn’t feel anything.”
“And the problem is?” Daniel’s face was so utterly incredulous it was almost insulting. No, strike that. It was totally insulting. The asshat was wearing a teal button-down tucked into pleated khaki slacks and he had the gall to look at me like I was the ridiculous one.
“Were you listening to anything I said?” I shoved a hand through the top of my hair and continued to pace a frenzied path through my living room.
“I listened all night actually. Got a set of blue balls to prove it.” He topped off his coffee and then put the carafe back on the warmer. “Any chance you could maybe not have a nervous breakdown on my birthday next year? When you called, Amber was just getting to the good stuff. And when you’ve been married as long as we have, birthdays are the only time you get the good stuff.”
I rolled my eyes. “You might be the worst psychiatrist in existence. I can’t believe people actually pay you for this shit.”
He barked a laugh. “You get what you pay for, asshat. And newsflash, you don’t pay me a penny.” Casually strolling past me, he walked to my tattered brown couch and sank down. The cushion let out a squeak, and without missing a beat, he reached into the crack and pulled out one of Kaitlyn’s plastic ponies. “But if you want my professional opinion, I think this could be a healthy step for you.”
I stopped and planted my hands on my hips. “In what realm of the universe is me losing my mind considered healthy?”
He tossed the pony into the toy basket beside the couch and then propped his yuppy-ass loafers on my coffee table. “Uhhh, I think we are a few years past the word ‘losing.’”
“Remind me why I let you come inside again?”
He stared off into the distance, stroking his freshly shaved chin, and looking every bit as stupid as his wardrobe. “Perhaps my top-notch banter? Dashing good looks? Razor-sharp wit?” He swayed his head from side to side. “Or maybe because I’m the only friend you have.”
He was not wrong there. Isolation didn’t leave a lot of time for socializing. Luckily for me, Daniel had been born into his role as my best friend. He was seven years younger than me, strapped with the same deadbeat dad. We hadn’t grown up together, but when I became a teen, I found myself seeking him out. I took him under my wing and tried to be the father figure we never had. Despite our different upbringings, we shared an unspoken bond. Through late-night conversations, a mutual love of football, and a competitive edge that bred a natural sibling rivalry, we got close.
He lived almost two hours away now, so we didn’t see each other all that often anymore. Which, given my curse, was probably a hell of a lot safer for him.