Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 114551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 573(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 573(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
The thought has sadness creeping into my chest, and I push it to the back of my mind before climbing up onto the counter and searching the highest shelves, finding Liv’s collection of old vases. Then reaching for the red one, I pull it down and smile, finding our old cash stash.
There’s only a couple hundred dollars, but it’s enough to get me started and fed for the next few days.
Grabbing a pair of shoes and a hoodie, I head out, making sure to lock up behind me before making my way down to the grocery store, my hunger pushing me faster and faster. I try to keep in the shadows and hide my face, only in the fluorescent lights of the grocery store, it’s not as easy as it sounds.
I pick up a few things while picking at a bag of grapes along the way, and just as I go to line up at the cash register, a familiar voice sounds behind me. “Well, fuck. I’d recognize that ass anywhere.”
Ahh shit.
Chills sail down my spine, and I clench my jaw, turning around to find one of my many high school boyfriends, Dylan Delgardo. He was a fucking pig, and from the sound of it, he still is. I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking apart from the fact that he was hot. Though, it seems the past few years haven’t been kind. There’s something darker about him, something wicked, and I don’t like it.
“Dylan,” I say, trying to keep the bite out of my tone.
His gaze sails up and down my body, not that he sees much as it’s mostly hidden beneath my hoodie. “Oakley fucking Quinn,” he purrs. “I always wondered how you turned out.”
“Funny,” I mutter. “I’ve not once wondered about you.”
“Come on, baby. There’s no need to be like that,” he says, inching toward me. “What are you doing tonight? You were such a whore for me in high school. Fancy taking another ride for old time’s sake.”
I scoff, my brow arching in disgust. “Weren’t you in prison?”
“Got out last month.”
“Oh, cool,” I murmur, wondering where the hell these Empire assassins are when you need them. “What were you in for again?”
Dylan’s gaze narrows. “That’s none of your fucking business.”
“Just what I thought,” I scoff. “Look, thanks for the invitation, but I’ll pass.”
“What?” he grunts. “So you think you’re better than me now?”
“Open your eyes, Dylan. I am better than you,” I tell him. “You were a low life in high school, barely scraping by, and now look at you—standing in my personal space, trying to get me to fuck you for old time’s sake. What the hell is wrong with you? If you can’t get laid by picking women up the normal way, then pay for it, but leave me the fuck alone. I’ve got more important things to worry about than having to ohh and ahh at all the right times while you flail around on top of me with no idea how to satisfy a woman. Tell me, did you ever figure out where the clit is?”
“Listen here you little—”
“Next,” the lady at the cash register calls out.
I beam up at Dylan. “It’s been such a pleasure,” I tell him. “I really wish I could stay and talk, but I must be going. Let’s hope you can make it through the next few years without getting your bitch-ass locked up again.”
Without another word, I step up to the cash register and put my groceries on the conveyor belt while watching Dylan from the corner of my eye. “Are you okay?” the woman behind the counter asks, keeping her voice low. “That asshole has been lingering around here for the past few weeks. Gives me the creeps.”
“Yeah,” I say with a dismissive scoff before grabbing a candy bar and placing it down on the conveyor belt, a treat for the walk home to applaud myself for an escape well done . . . kind of. “I’m fine. He’s child’s play compared to the assholes I’ve been dealing with.”
“Okay,” she says. “But if you want security to walk you to your car, just let me know.”
I give her a tight smile, hoping I don’t look like a bitch, but after the past twenty-four hours, my resting bitch face has become the norm. “Thanks,” I tell her. “But I’ll be alright.”
She finishes ringing up my groceries, and with two heavy bags in each hand, I make my trek out of the store, desperate to get home, feed myself, and then figure out what the hell I’m going to do from here.
As much as I might want to, I can’t stay here. This will be one of the first places Empire checks, and I need to be long gone before they do. I have a few friends here who would let me crash with them, but I can’t possibly bring this bullshit to their door. That wouldn’t be fair. I think it’s time to admit that I’m more alone than I’ve ever been before.