Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
The rest was sort of history.
“What is going on?” she whispers, picking up the rolling suitcase and dragging it into my room, with the other woman following closely behind her.
I sigh, shutting the door. “I don’t know.”
“Bryant is up to something…” She begins pulling all of my clothes out and slipping them onto hangers. The other woman is already folding and tucking things away into my closet.
“Oh, I know.” I fall onto the bed when a small shoebox catches my eye. I take it, flipping it open.
“That’s all of your personal items.”
“Bryant kept all of this?” I can’t see Bryant keeping anything of mine actually. It’s not like him to be sentimental.
“Well.” Amanda cringes, quickly dashing into the closet to put away more of my clothes.
“Amanda…” I warn. “Spit it out.”
She pops her head out from behind the door. Her shoulders sag in defeat. “Okay fine. When he found out about you going away, he ordered me to get rid of everything, but I didn’t. I put all of your things into the storage room. I had a feeling that you were coming back. As stupid as that sounds.”
My heart is pounding in my chest. How many times can you feel disappointment before the pounding goes numb? “Right,” I whisper, attempting to hide my washed-out sadness. “Yeah, that sounds just like him.”
She comes closer to me, the palm of her hand on my cheek. “It’s only because that’s his way of mourning, Isa. He lost two of the most important people in his life. Just because someone doesn’t know how to cope with their mourning, it doesn’t make it wrong. There is no right or wrong way to deal with heartbreak, there’s just survival, and you do what you need to do to get through it.”
I chuckle past my swollen throat. “Ever the theorist.” Next out of the box is my cellphone, wallet—thank god for bank cards—and other small items I had. My favorite earrings, my—“wedding rings.”
Amanda is in front of me again. “I figured you might still want those.”
I toss them back into the box and slam the cover over it. “He’s marrying someone else.”
Amanda places some folded chiffon sleepwear on the bed and pats it. “I don’t know what he’s doing, but Isa?”
I look up at her, choking back my tears.
“Give them both hell.” She winks before finally losing herself in the organization of my crap. Picking up my sleepwear, I pad into the bathroom, sighing when I shut the door. Amanda must have already placed some items in here because there’s a couple of bath bombs, soaps, and shampoos placed on the counter, as well as a toothbrush and paste.
I hit the faucet on the bathtub and watch as water fills to the brink. Amanda knows me, to an extent. She knows what I’m capable of and how much havoc I can create.
So if he wants me to stay here.
Then stay here, I will.
When someone dies, the memories you have of them slowly die too.
—Bryant
She’s fucking ruthless. I knew that she wouldn’t want to be in the bedroom down from me. Actually, I fucking expected it. What I forgot was how people gravitated toward her. She’s the rebel without a cause. The recluse. Yet, people couldn’t help but be drawn to her. She attracts all kinds of people. Jerry, my heartless ex-SEAL who killed people on a regular, and did it without blinking, couldn’t stop his concrete wall from tumbling at her very hand. She does this. Isa fucking Royal will change everything you thought you knew about a bad woman.
She’s someone I can trust.
I can go to war beside.
But now, I’m not going to war beside her, I’m going to war against her.
“Cat got your tongue?” she purrs, and I watch as her lips wrap around her strawberry as she sucks the cream off the tip.
My eyes narrow. “Never.” It took all of my power not to kick down her door last night and fuck her until she bled.
Her white teeth sink into the fruit as juice drips down the corner of her mouth. She leans forward. “What is this, Bryant? I don’t want to play games anymore. I just want answers.”
I used to trust her more than I do now. More than I trusted anyone. But can I trust her with this? Not yet.
“Morning.” Stacey bounces into the kitchen, fresh from a run and leans down to press a kiss on my lips.
Isa flinches, only slightly, and if you weren’t me, you wouldn’t have caught it, before leaning back in her chair and averting her eyes out in front of her. Her phone vibrates on the table and she swipes it up, scrolling through the text.
A soft smile graces her mouth as her fingers fly over the screen. With a sudden change of attitude, she stands from the kitchen chair, revealing her sleepwear. The one I’m all too familiar with. Pretty sure the fucking thing is still torn from my teeth.