Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 132582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
“What did you just say?” His eyes flare, his nostrils too. I was right. Something about his eyes has changed, and I can’t put my finger on it. He takes another step closer, and I draw in a calming breath.
“Look, I really have to go.”
“Why the hell are you trying to avoid me?” He’s right in front of me now, and he grips my upper arm with both hands. It startles me to the point that tears creep to my eyes, and I’m reminded of Rami. The hopelessness. The fear.
“Garrett, let go of me,” I say through clenched teeth.
“You’re so fucking ungrateful,” he growls in my face. “It’s no wonder you’re so alone and miserable.”
His words are like a slap to the face. I stare at him, stunned, then shove him hard against the chest, forcing him off me. His back hits the side of a car, and his eyes widen.
“Fucking leave!”
“What?”
“You heard me! Leave!” I shout. “Or I’m calling the cops!”
He glares at me while shaking his head. “Fine. You know what?” He turns around, snatching up the iced coffees and box of pastries and chucking them on the ground. Cream and coffee spill on the blacktop, running toward the pile of muffins.
“You’re a fucking bitch, Willow! You’ve wasted so much of my time and you’re gonna regret that shit!” With those words in the air, he storms away. My heart pounds in my chest as I watch him return to his car, start the engine, and peel off, his tires screeching.
When he’s gone, I close my eyes, draw in a deep breath, and then open them to climb into my car.
It won’t be the last time I see him, I’m sure of it, but for now, he’s not the priority. Getting back to Caz is.
Fifty-Nine
WILLOW
The scent of ground coffee beans envelopes me as I step into Lit and Latte’s. The bell above the door chimes, and the warmth of the shop wraps around me, combining with the moisture that has accumulated on the back of my neck and upper lip. Nervous sweat.
Two employees stand behind the checkout counter, one working the café, chomping on a piece of gum as she shoves a pastry into the toaster oven. People are seated at tables by the window with books or laptops, peacefully sipping their drinks. It’s all so simple, and I wonder if any of them realize there’s a bigger world out there. There’s so much more than we know. Hell, I bet Vakeeli isn’t the only other universe that exists. There are probably thousands more waiting to be discovered.
I shake the thought away and make my way to the book checkout counter, where a girl with green hair and a septum piercing smiles as I approach. Her name badge is covered in Harry Potter and Twilight pins, and her name is Valeria.
“Hi. Is Faye in?” I ask.
“She is. I believe she’s in the office. Do you want me to get her for you?”
“No, that’s okay. I told her I was swinging by, so I’ll just go meet her.” I wander down the hallway and give the closed office door a quick knock.
“Come in!” Faye’s voice is clear and distinct, and I feel such relief at the sound of it. I grip the doorknob and twist it open, stepping into the tight office. It’s a box-sized room, one wall full of shelves, and no windows. A desk facing the door is in the center, atop with a Mac desktop, keyboard, and printer, and behind it is a cushioned rolling chair. Occupying the chair is Faye, who glances up from the book she’s reading and does a double take when she realizes it’s me.
“Willow!” she screeches, tucking a bookmark into the spine and then slapping it closed.
“Are you seriously hiding in your office to read?” I ask, laughing as she hops up and rushes to me.
“Yes! It’s slow out there right now. A few chapters won’t hurt.” She squeezes me tight, and I smile over her shoulder. I’ve missed her hugs. “Are you okay?” She pulls away, her hands on top of my shoulders as she assesses me.
“I’m okay. But I really need to talk to you.”
“Okay.” She releases me and steps back. “Do you want to close the door?”
I look back at the empty hallway before nodding and closing the door again. She makes her way back to her chair and sits, crossing one leg over the other and placing her elbows on the desk, waiting with anticipation.
I drag one of the folded chairs from the corner toward the desk and sit, then release a slow exhale as I close my eyes.
“Willow?”
I open my eyes to meet hers again. Her anticipation has faded. There’s nothing but concern filling her eyes now.
“So, this is going to sound crazy,” I start.
“Nothing ever really sounds crazy to me,” she says, shrugging. And it’s true. Faye hasn’t had the most decent upbringing. Her father tragically died when she was two and her mother had to raise her alone. One day, when she was seven, she came home after school and her mother wasn’t there. Then, two days passed, and she still hadn’t shown up. Fortunately, Faye was a very self-sufficient seven-year-old, so she fed, clothed, and bathed herself. But then her grandmother visited, and when she found out her mother had been missing, they put out a missing person’s report. Long story short, Faye’s mother was found in a motel, her face buried in a pile of coke. The only thing that stopped Faye from crying about the news was books. She still remembers the series she was reading—The Baby-Sitters Club. Her grandmother took her to the library every week, and there she’d stack up on books and stay in her room reading between school hours.