Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 129323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
Every room in the apartment is empty.
I begin to panic. Where is she?
My mind is reeling, replaying last night. Remembering the kiss that felt like a goodbye.
How the fuck did I fall asleep? Why didn’t I ensure she was all right?
I slam my fists against the counter, needing to rage. To scream. Anything to get these bottled-up emotions loose. But I don’t.
I head into the room she used to stay in.
The door is open, and the room is eerily quiet. The second thing I notice is there is not one thread of Cassidy in the room. Nothing. Even from where I’m standing, the closet door is open, and I don’t find anything but the clothes I bought her. None of the things she brought with her are in view.
I march to the closet, and my vision swims when I find that her suitcase is gone.
Cassidy is gone.
I’m about to tear this place apart. Call the police. Anything to find her when I see a piece of paper folded on the desk.
Heading across the space, I grab the paper and open it up.
It’s her handwriting, and that’s when I see it’s a letter for me.
My throat feels like I swallowed shards of glass as I read the words in front of me. She’s left me. My fists clench, but I keep reading, and what I see next has the note slipping from my grasp.
49
AIDEN
The puck drops, and I push forward, my skates cutting into the ice, but it’s not enough.
I’m too slow today.
My head is not in the game. Again.
We lost game five.
And now it’s not looking good for game six.
The center for the Empires darts forward; his stick hits the puck, and then he’s off, and I’m left with my dick in my hand.
His lightning-fast reflexes are a sharp contrast to my muddled-down response time.
I try to push away the thoughts wreaking havoc in my brain, but as much as I try, they push their way forward, blinding me to the world around me.
I’m lost in her words.
They replay in my brain over and over.
I can only see them.
Only hear them.
It feels like I’m choking on every single letter.
Aiden,
You were my only safe place. You were my home, and when you left, you took that with you. I don’t write this to make you feel bad. I know you regret the past, but unfortunately, the past has a way of resurfacing.
I know you went back there. I know you asked questions. I should say that I’m sorry for coming back to you, but I’m not. Having one more minute with you was worth it. Even if I have to lose you to keep you safe. But as long as you’re with me, you’re not. I lied to you when I said I wasn’t hiding something. I lied to you every time I didn’t speak my truths.
I can’t lie to you anymore. I did something. Something that eats away at me. I can’t have that hurting you.
I killed someone. His blood is on my hands.
The longer you stay with me, the more danger I bring to you. It’s only a matter of time before my drama hits you. I’m sorry. I love you. But to save you, to protect you, I need to leave. I can’t be responsible for ruining your dream.
I love you now and always.
-Your Pip
“Slate! What the fuck, man,” Dane screams, and I shake my head, pulling myself away from the memory.
I push forward, charging toward the puck. But I’m too late. Maverick, the Empires center, is pulling back and shooting. Mason tries to defend the goal, but the puck pushes past him.
As the game continues, I try to rally. Skating with determination, I relentlessly pursue the puck, but it’s no use. No matter what I do, I can’t move forward. I need to get to the bottom of Cassidy’s words. For the first time in my life, something is more important than hockey.
Now back at the airport, ready to head home, I step away from my teammates and grab my phone. I dial the number for Tony, the private investigator Mike had given me.
“Slate. Tough loss, but going into game seven on a tie is more fun. I know—”
I don’t hire him to make small talk. “No time for that. I need you for a job.”
“I’m listening,” he drawls.
“I need you to look into the death of Ace Sawyer. He died around eight or nine years ago.”
At some point, I put together a theory. My mother said Ace was dead. That he had touched Pip differently. She said she killed someone. What are the chances that it was Ace?
“Location?”
I sigh. I wish I had more to go on, but I don’t, so I give him the only information I have. “That I’m not sure, but he’s from East Sanford, Michigan.”