Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 51248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 256(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 256(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
“Like what? What other things?” The words leave me before I realize I need to shut up in the hopes they’ll forget I’m here.
Daniel murmurs what sounds like a scolding that Jase ignores apart from cracking a smile.
“He’s happy you’re able to walk,” Jase tells me and a violent blush overtakes my cheeks.
I pull the blanket tighter around me, wondering what else he told them.
“You’re Braelynn with the pigtails?” Daniel questions and Carter answers for me as my heart pounds in my chest. “No.”
Pigtails? My mother used to braid my hair in pigtails every day for middle school. Back when I first knew of them. It feels like an eternity ago.
The fridge door closes and Daniel stands there with a stick of butter in one hand and block of cheese in the other. “Yes she is,” he confidently corrects Carter, looking at him before meeting my gaze. “You are, right?” he questions me. “From school?”
I can only nod, swallowing down every insecurity. I can’t imagine they would remember me at all. They were years older and I only ever shared a couple of classes with Declan. Of all the things to think about right now, the day in gym class in middle school when we were playing jump rope comes to mind.
“Declan had a puppy dog crush on you,” Jase comments and I glance up to find him smirking. Daniel grins as he goes about making what looks to be a grilled cheese and then I glance at Carter, who stands in the same place, only now he’s openly staring, so hard that I can practically see the wheels spinning.
He’s intimidating, the other two much less so.
“You like grilled cheese, right?” Daniel asks.
Although my stomach is empty, I don’t have an appetite in the least. I can’t imagine saying no, though.
As if he can hear my thoughts, Carter tells me in a more soothing voice, almost hypnotic, “I think it would make Declan happy if you ate.”
There’s a knowing, a kindness in some way in his tone. Something shifts between us and I answer softly, “I would like that.”
Carter only nods once, not moving and then returns to his phone, but as I sweep my gaze to the cooktop, I catch the other two sharing a glance. One that’s a balm for the smallest bit of uneasiness in me. One that allows me to sit in the chair, huddled in the blanket and sit with them in relative silence. It’s only once Daniel puts the sandwich in front of me that they leave the kitchen and I belatedly realize not a single one of them ate. They didn’t get themselves food or even drinks.
I do, though. I finish every bite of grilled cheese and every drop of coffee … but once I’m back in Declan’s room, alone except for the memories of yesterday, it all comes right back up and I’m only grateful I made it to the trash can in time.
DECLAN
As quietly as possible, I push the door open. It’s only as the door creaks that I glance down and see the blood under my thumbnail.
Shit.
I still for a moment, watching her lie in bed under the covers. Listening for any hints as to whether or not I’ve woken her up. It’s been hours of watching her from my phone, tossing and turning at first before falling asleep.
She needs it, my poor girl.
Satisfied that she’s undisturbed, I head to the bathroom first to wash away what I had to do this morning and afternoon. Hale is a risk. One I can’t allow to exist. Or “was,” rather. He was a risk.
He bore the weight of my mistake. It’s unfortunate, but so very many truths are.
As I wash my hands at the sink, I swear I can hear him begging me not to kill him over the sound of the running water. He swore he didn’t steal from me. And he didn’t. I didn’t have to believe him, it was everyone else in that room who needed to think he was lying.
It went well enough, with him apologizing and begging. A single plea for forgiveness was enough to condemn him in the eyes of my men.
One man’s false confession brought him death. It’s an unsettling feeling. And then there’s Braelynn and what she went through.
Turning the faucet off, I’m left with the uneasy quiet but not for long.
“Declan?” she calls out, hesitantly.
As I step out into the bedroom, I unbutton my shirt halfway down and then pull it over my head. When the fabric falls, I catch sight of her. A messy halo of hair from sleep, and her eyes more rested, bracing herself on her stomach … in my bed.
If only she wasn’t sick, I’d rid her of that shirt and bring us both the closure we need for this fucked-up week.