Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 63758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
“I don't think that's true,” Kat says. “Flynn seemed really concerned about you.”
I groan.
“Adrian shouldn't have attacked him. Maybe I can get him to apologize.”
“No,” I protest. “Adrian needs to butt out of this. It's none of his business.”
“I know, you're right,” Kat says. “I told him that. He's just worried about you and trying to protect you.”
“Has he ever considered that his worry doesn't help me? I think it makes things worse.” My vision blurs with fresh tears. As I speak the words I realize how true they are. It's Flynn's assumption that I am fine, that I can go outside, that I can walk to the lake, that makes me believe it's possible. When Adrian assumes I can't do anything, I believe him.
“I'm sorry.” Adrian stands in the doorway, a tattooed forearm propped against the frame, his muscles bulging beneath his Henley.
He wasn’t always like this–so dangerous and angry. I did this to him.
We’ve always looked out for each other. Our mother died of cancer when we were young, and our father drowned his grief in alcohol. We became close because we were all we had to rely on.
Adrian worked hard to get a degree in engineering and had a job doing maintenance and repair on ships. He was always tough and resourceful, but my kidnapping turned him into a killer. He's done things I don't want to know about. He joined the bratva to have access to the resources necessary to find me. And in the process, he became a much darker, more deadly version of himself.
I suck in a hiccuping breath. “I don't want to be like this anymore.”
Pain etches in the lines around Adrian’s eyes. I know he wants to fix it, but his overprotectiveness isn’t helping.
“You need to let me do this in my own way.”
His brow wrinkles. “Because you're doing such a good job of it on your own?”
“Adrian,” Kat admonishes.
“Sorry,” he says. “But seriously Nadia, is it working?”
Maybe he’s right. My way was a total disaster. But that doesn't make his way right, either.
“Adrian, please go. I just want to be alone,” I say.
He nods and leaves. Kat hesitates.
My phone buzzes with an incoming text. I almost never receive texts, so I snatch it up to look at the screen, then show it to Kat. “It's him.” All of the slowness in my world speeds up. I open the text.
“He says hey. What does that mean?” I understand the English word hey, but reading context into a text message might be beyond my language level.
“He's reaching out.” Kat gives me a smile of encouragement. “It's just an opening. Sort of an invitation for you to respond–but without pressure.”
That sounds exactly like Flynn. As I hold the phone in both hands, some of the leaden weight in my body melts away. Kat slips off the bed and leaves the room as I type the word hey in response.
Can I call? he texts.
Heart thudding, I hit the call button next to his name. He answers with the same word he texted, “Hey.”
“Hey.” Warmth floods my chest even though it's one word. Hearing his voice changes my state faster than seems possible.
“I'm really sorry about Adrian,” I say. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. It's cool. Are you okay?” There is so much gentle kindness in the question that I have to fight back tears again. But they feel so different this time. They're not filled with bitterness and defeat. It's more the watering eyes that comes from knowing that someone cares about me.
“I'm okay,” I choke. “I'm sorry, I–”
“Don't be sorry,” he cuts in. “There's nothing to be sorry for. You told me something bad happened to you.”
He says nothing more as if leaving space for me to fill in without the pressure of a question. He's not asking, but he’s available if I want to talk.
“Yes. Something bad happened to me,” I say. “Something really bad.”
“Yeah.” That's all he says. Again there’s an openness. So much space here in the room, so much invitation between us. I'm not suffocating.
I don't tell this story, ever. I've told pieces to Adrian, but he already knew the meat of it. I never had to start from the beginning.
What was the beginning? Oh. I remember.
“You know that wedding dress shop I told you I worked in?”
“Yeah.”
“I worked late sometimes. We had rush orders, and wedding dresses can’t be late, you know? So I was there alone until midnight one night.” I swallow, not wanting to go on. “I locked up. I walked toward my car, and someone grabbed me in the parking lot.”
I hear Flynn suck in a breath, but he says nothing.
“I fought. I know what they say–fight for your life because once they get you in a vehicle, no one will ever see you again.” Images flash in front of my eyes. The three men who closed in on me. The light they used to blind me. “I slipped on ice trying to get away. When I fell, I banged my knee on the pavement.” It’s funny, I’d forgotten about my knee until now. Gospodi, it swelled up like a balloon. So did my face where they hit me until I blacked out.