Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 97369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
I’ve done some awful things. I’ve hurt many people. I’ve killed people.
Now, I’m doing my time; it’s just not in a prison cell.
There’s a reception with no Indie.
A night in the presidential suite of Dallas’s fanciest hotel.
And now, we have two days at the house before we leave for our honeymoon in Switzerland.
Two days in the same house as Indie.
“I won’t make you carry me over the threshold until we come home from our honeymoon.” Jolene shoots me a grin before opening the door to Fletcher’s house.
I carry our bags inside while she calls for Pauline.
“Mr. and Mrs. Odell, welcome home,” Micah says before we make it to the stairs.
“Where is everyone?” Jolene asks.
Micah shoots his gaze to me and then back to Jolene. “Sorry, I assumed you knew, but I’m sure they didn’t want to disturb you.”
“Know what?” she asks.
“Indiana is in the hospital.”
My chest nearly folds in on itself, crushing everything inside me. “What happened?”
“I’m not sure. I haven’t been given an update. When Mr. Ellington and your mom arrived home after the wedding reception, they found Indiana in her room, unresponsive. I called for an ambulance right away. That’s all I know.”
“What …” I clear my throat, but it’s fucking hard to speak when I can’t catch my breath. “What do you mean unresponsive? Was she …” Again, I have to clear my throat. “Breathing?”
Micah shakes his head. “Sorry. I really don’t know.”
“Well…” I run a hand through my hair “…we need to get to the hospital.”
“Milo, we just got here.” Jolene frowns. “Let’s not panic until I talk with Mom.”
Is she serious?
We don’t know if Indie is dead or alive, and she wants us not to fucking panic? “Jolene—”
She pulls her phone from her handbag. “I’ll call her now.”
I fight to keep my shit together, but I can’t help but pace in a circle while she’s on the phone.
“Hey, Mom. We just got home. Micah said Indie’s in the hospital. What’s going on?” Jolene nods and rolls her eyes. “Figures. Okay, then we’ll just see you when you get here. Bye.” She drops her phone back into her bag. “That girl is messed-up.”
“Jesus, Jolene, what happened?” My clipped tone earns me another scowl from her.
“She had too much to drink. She’ll be fine. They’ll be on their way home soon.”
“Can I get you something to eat?” Micah asks.
“We’re good. We had a fantastic brunch delivered to our suite this morning.” Jolene stares at her phone screen, texting someone. “Milo, dear, would you take our bags to my bedroom?” She glances up at me and smiles. “Our bedroom.”
I nod without making eye contact. If I look at her, she’ll see it on my face, every ounce of concern for Indie. Before I make it to our bedroom, I stop at the door to Indie’s room, letting the bags drop from my hands and taking cautious steps toward the empty whiskey bottles on the floor. The broken mirror and Fletcher’s shattered decanter next to it. And vomit on the bed.
This fucking hurts.
Fletcher took away my ability to protect her. And look what happened.
“Sorry, I’m late. I’ll get this cleaned up right away. I went home for the weekend with my family.” Linda, the housekeeper, shuffles into the bedroom with a bucket of cleaning supplies and a big trash bag. “I do hope Miss Indiana is okay.”
She dons her gloves and bends down to pick up the largest piece of the decanter.
“Don’t,” I murmur.
She glances back at me.
“Sorry, did you say something?”
“Just … leave everything. I’ll clean it up.”
Her eyes narrow. “Mr. Odell. It’s fine. I’m here now. Your lovely bride is downstairs. You should be with her. Congratulations on your wedding.”
I can barely speak. “Leave. Leave everything.”
She slowly sets the decanter piece next to the trash bag and just as slowly exits the bedroom, closing the door behind her.
It takes me several minutes of nothing more than surveying the room over and over again, trying to imagine what happened before I pick up the glass and other empty bottles, before I clean up the vomit and I strip the sheets from her bed.
“What the hell are you doing?” Jolene opens the bedroom door just as I tie the trash bag and deposit the dirty bedding next to it.
“Cleaning things up before they get home,” I say in a monotone voice.
“Linda’s here. That’s her job.” Jolene crosses her arms.
Eyeing her, I nod. “I’ll put our bags in the bedroom.” I brush past her, and she grabs my wrist, fingernails digging into it.
“This ends now. Do you understand me? Whatever sick relationship you had with her … it ends now.”
I glance back at her. “Sick relationship?”
Pulling in a long breath, her expression hardens. “I know you were grooming her.”
“Grooming?”
“Befriending her. Gaining her trust so you could manipulate her into doing … inappropriate things.”