Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78884 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78884 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
“You really brought all of those whores over to get a reaction out of me?” I ask, scrutinizing his face.
He shrugs in response. “Well, that’s not the entire reason, but it was definitely a perk.”
“You’re such a jerk,” I say narrowing my eyes at him and pushing him off as he laughs and hugs my body close to his.
Days after the shooting, we have to deal with sentiments from the neighborhood. We’re told what a good person Maggie was, what a big heart she had, what an amazing job she did with us, and how much she would be missed. We have blank stares through all of it. We stare at nothing as we watch her casket go into the ground. I feel so much of nothing, it feels like my body is going to blow up. Even though Cole has taken every opportunity he could to make sure I know that I’m not the problem, I can’t stop blaming myself. Cole and I had just visited Maggie and asked her about our past. We went to see her after those people started contacting me, and I’m thinking they probably followed us there. Guilt is eating at me little by little, and I’m not sure how much more it’ll take from me before its belly is full.
Chapter 22
Present
One Month Later
I decide to drop my issues on living with Cole, as long as he promises to have two bodyguards with him at all times. I can’t stand the thought of him being taken from me. The police still have no leads on who killed Maggie. They keep saying it might be gang members in the area. They’re full of shit, and they know it as much as we do. I’ve called Mark to harass him for information that he swears he doesn’t have—and for once, I don’t think he’s hiding anything from me. I’ve decided to accept my fate and tell those I love that I love them. Because what the hell? If I’m going to die today, they might as well know it.
Every day, I call Becky and Greg and let them know that I miss them and love them. When I hug Aubry and Aimee goodbye, I tell them the same. I’m sick of living in fear. And if I’m going to live in fear, then I’m going to do it right, dammit. Since they’ve decided not to let me shut them out, I’m going to let them know how I feel. I just hope my love doesn’t kill them, too. I know those three words are not at fault, though. It’s me—my presence. I’m tainted.
Every day, since Maggie died, I’ve made it a point to take the long route home. I want to enjoy the buildings, the trees, the faces, the colorful flowers that are blooming, and the sun hitting my face. I want to enjoy the air that I’m fortunate enough to breathe and cherish the people that I have in my life. I haven’t decided to stop searching for answers, but I’ve put it on hold. I’m focusing on the Bar that I’m taking in a couple of weeks, which is more important to me-for now. I have a timeline of my life’s events at home in my box. So far, I have a couple of things filled out but no concrete answers. I walk around aware of my surroundings, but some days, like today, I let myself go and just focus on walking. Bruce watches me from afar, and I’m grateful for him.
When I get home, I find Cole packing for his trip to New York. I love that he loves his job, but I hate that he has to travel so much for it. His trips are usually one day trips; he rarely even stays anywhere overnight, which makes it silly for me to even care about him going. I go to the kitchen and make him a sandwich and coffee for his ride to the airport. He sits on the barstool in front of me and watches me as I’m putting everything away.
“Marry me,” he says behind me, making me drop the packs of cold cuts in my hand. I whip around and gape at him. He laughs and gets up to walk over to me. He bends down and picks up the packs of roast beef and cheese that I dropped, and puts it away for me before turning back to face me again. He holds both of my hands in his and kisses the tip of my nose.
“Marry me, Blake Brennan,” he says as he looks at me with hopeful wide eyes. I bite down on my lip to keep from smiling.
“Aren’t you going to get down on one knee?” I ask quietly, raising an eyebrow. We’ve talked about marriage before, and he swore he was going to orchestrate the most “epic” proposal-his words. This was definitely not “epic”, not that I needed that. With the way my heart felt like it was about to pop out of my chest, I clearly didn’t need anything fancier than this.