Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 164459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 822(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 822(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)
He laughs at that—well, more like grunts. “First of all, it’s not kidnapping if you admitted you were well on your way to my car. Second of all, I will crush that phone and his bones, just so you can’t talk to him while you’re with me.”
I gasp, and he cocks an eyebrow before looking away.
“Dick,” I hiss.
“Snoop.”
He sneers as Bill climbs into the truck. I swear I want to punch him right in the belly right now… but I’m too busy fighting a smile to even attempt.
Fortunately, I win the battle. I don’t smile.
“You guys all good back there? Need the A/C turned up or anything?” Bill asks.
“We’re okay. I’ll crack the windows if it gets too hot,” Drake says.
“Okay then. Enjoy the ride.” Bill looks up through the rearview mirror briefly, right at me. He has a glint in his eyes—one of recognition. Almost like he knows exactly who I am to Drake, and just how much Drake meant to me.
I look away before he does, focusing on my lap.
Drake’s cologne passes my nostrils and I squeeze the cross in hand. I’ll have cuts and bruises by the time I let this thing go. Speaking of…
“You never answered my question.” I look up at him. He’s already looking at me, his warm green eyes focused on my lips.
His eyes dart up as if he were never looking at them to begin with. Heat slithers through my veins, some of it becoming a hot puddle in my core. “What question?”
“How did you get the cross? When? It was in my house, in a shoebox in my closet. How did you get it? How did you find it?”
He simply smiles. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t laugh. He just smiles and it ticks me off.
“You aren’t going to answer?”
He cracks the window and focuses on the passing hotels. “I will… eventually.”
I groan, rubbing my eyes a bit. I don’t care if the makeup smears. I hope I look ugly enough for him to think twice about messing with me.
“I can’t deal with this right now. I need a drink,” I mutter, rolling my window down.
That statement causes him to react. “Since when do you need drinks?”
“Since my ex-boyfriend decided to fuck and run four years ago.”
His eyes are thin, focused on me before they descend. His eyelashes are like shadows on his smooth cheekbones. His hair falls forward, tumbling across his forehead.
He seems so human, so boyish, that for a split-second I feel awful for saying what I just said. But then I remember that night, and how I sat there, watching every passing car. Waiting for his truck to show up, only to receive nothing.
Abandoned.
Forgotten.
I had never hurt inside so much. It felt worse than losing Mitchell, and I didn’t think anything would feel worse than what I felt then.
Drake’s eyes flash up to meet mine. “I couldn’t make it at the time, Jenny,” he murmurs. “But I came back. I was coming.”
“No? And why couldn’t you?”
Uncomfortable with my question, Drake sits up straight, side-eyeing Bill. Bill seems to be completely oblivious, but I know he’s listening, especially when he turns the volume up on the radio.
A song by Eminem streams through the speakers.
I sit back against the leather, allowing the music to pass freely. Drake shifts in his seat, and I feel a finger touch the bottom of my chin.
He tilts it up, and I catch his eyes. He’s closer now—too close.
My chest tightens with things I don’t want to feel, my belly broiling with heat.
“I’m sorry, Jenny. I swear I am. You think I don’t regret that?”
“I don’t know what you think,” I mutter, pulling my face away.
“It was the worst decision of my life, but it got me here. To where I am now. I told you, I just needed time.”
I frown. “What do you mean by where you are now? What does where you are now have to do with what happened to us?”
He sighs, drawing back. The SUV slows down and I realize we’ve arrived. Bill has parked in another alley. He unclips his seatbelt and climbs out, rounding the car and opening my door.
“Miss Jenny?”
I look from Bill to Drake.
“Go with him,” he insists.
“How long will you be?”
“Not long.”
“Who will take me up?”
Drake laughs, shaking his head. “So many questions.” He rubs his head. “Look, don’t worry. Preach will be there for you at the door. He’ll walk you up to the room. All you’ll have to do is wait for me.”
I study his face, how relaxed and content he is. How can he be so chill when there is still so much to talk about? I almost want to slap him, just to see if he’s actually here, in the same reality as I am.
Our eyes remain connected for quite some time. He’s so calm, like what he did can be easily forgotten now that he’s back.