Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 84533 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84533 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Either way, time would tell, so I closed my eyes and relaxed. Crow would do to me whatever he did. I didn’t feel the need to fight back against him the way I did with Eddie.
I felt the difference when he pulled onto the gravel road. The gate squeaked open, and then he was moving again. I didn’t open my eyes until he killed the engine and we sat in the driveway beside his home.
It looked slightly different as the seasons changed—less flowers, the garden not as full as it had been two months ago. It was also darker, the sky grayer, and you could see the cold in the air.
Crow got out of the truck, then grabbed his bags from the back seat. I didn’t move because I wasn’t sure what to do, but then he stood in front of his vehicle, watching me expectantly with those eyes of his that reminded me of a day like today.
I followed him inside, where he went directly to the kitchen and began putting the groceries away. When I tried to help him, he rasped out, “Sit,” and pointed to the lonely chair at his bar.
I loved the sound of his voice, the grittiness and how it wrapped around me like a blanket. Maybe that didn’t make sense because it wasn’t soft, but I liked the feel of something a little sturdier against my skin, a little heavier, like those comfort blankets. It made me feel less alone.
Crow finished arranging the groceries, then pulled out bread, mayo, lunchmeat, and other sandwich fixings. Apparently, he was hungry.
I watched as he made a ham-and-cheese sandwich with lettuce, tomato, and onion. He plated it, then grabbed freshly cut peppers and veggies that I assumed were from his garden, and added them to the plate before handing it over.
My heart rate accelerated. “This is for me?”
He nodded. “Eat.”
“What if I’m not hungry?”
“You’re losing weight,” he said gently, his gaze not meeting mine.
I had lost a few pounds since I was up here last, but I hadn’t expected him to notice. No one else did, or if they had, they hadn’t said anything. Sometimes food held more interest to me than others. It all depended on my mental health. The meds made some people eat more, but they didn’t seem to have that effect on me.
Though I didn’t feel hungry, I picked up the sandwich and took a bite. It was kind of him to think about me, to make me food because he thought I needed it. Plus, I’d had my coffee but nothing else when I’d walked to the pharmacy for my meds.
Crow pulled iced tea from the fridge, and I asked, “Do you have any soda? Preferably something with caffeine in it?” because I needed another caffeine fix. He shook his head and made a face that said he was judging me. “What’s wrong with soda?”
Again, he didn’t answer—was this something from The Enlightened? No soda?—but surprisingly, his silence didn’t bother me.
He finished getting me iced tea, so at least I’d get a little caffeine, then crossed his arms, leaning against the fridge while he watched me eat. And when I say watched me, I mean that literally. He didn’t look away from me the whole time, making my cheeks heat up because it was strange and a little embarrassing to be watched while you ate.
“Are you queer?” I asked. Was this just about fucking me?
Crow frowned. “I’m…nothing.”
What did that mean? He was ace? Didn’t feel attraction? Didn’t crave sex? Or maybe… “You’ve never…?” Christ, was he a virgin? But then that made sense. He’d been alone up here since he was eighteen years old.
“I fuck. I’ve been fucking since…” He took a breath like he was working through what he wanted to say, or how to say it, or hell, maybe his voice was just getting used more than it typically did. “Sixteen.”
“Sixteen?” I snapped. I mean, I had too at that age, but… “You were the only minor up here…” Which meant he’d been fucking someone older.
His stare turned cold, putting off enough ice to make me tremble. He shut down, the kindness I’d seen in him completely dead. He knew now that I’d been looking him up—that, or people had talked to me—and he clearly didn’t like it.
“I’m sorry… I…”
“Don’t. Talk. About. That. Again.” His words were choppy, but that wasn’t what made me rear back; it was the venom in each and every one of them.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”
“Eat.” He pointed at my food again.
For whatever reason, that pissed me off. “You know what, Crow? Fuck you. I don’t know which way is up with you. First, you follow me through the woods, then when I hurt myself, you bring me to your house. You take care of me, ice and wrap my ankle, watch me sleep and piss. You give me crutches, then send me on my way and ignore me for months. Make me feel like I don’t matter, and I get it, you don’t fucking know me. I don’t matter to you. Then suddenly, you see a black eye and go into protective mode, force me up the mountain and feed me when I have no fucking clue what is going on! I’m done with this!”