Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 114775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 574(@200wpm)___ 459(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 574(@200wpm)___ 459(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
I wonder if I should keep talking, but I figure I can’t make this any worse. I need this job, so I take a deep breath and continue on, “The night of the robbery, Jason was staying at my place. Jesse was staying the night at his friend’s house. I only ever let Jason stay over when Jesse was staying out.” I don’t know why I tell Kas that, but it feels important to me that he knows that I always put Jesse first.
“I think, while I was sleeping, that Jason gave my access key to Damien. You know, I said I’d heard things about him. Well, those things were that Damien was trouble, into bad shit—carjacking, robbery, and the like. I think he used my access key, let himself in, somehow disconnected the CCTV inside the shop, and robbed it.
“Then, he brought my key card back to Jason. He put it back in my bag. Damien also gave him a piece of the stolen jewelry, which Jason so conveniently planted in my apartment. And, when the police came searching my place, there it was.
“Jason also told the police that he wasn’t with me at all that night. That he spent the night playing cards with his brother and friends and hadn’t seen me. I couldn’t prove otherwise. I had no witnesses to prove he’d been with me all night, so I was screwed. Basically, I was set up.
“The police charged me with theft. I was put in prison until my trial. I was given a court-appointed lawyer because I had no money to pay for my own, and I’m pretty sure my lawyer had only just gotten his law degree. I didn’t stand a chance. I was found guilty and sent to prison for three years. I served eighteen months and was released on parole. And here I am.
“I lost everything…Jesse…my job, my home…my freedom…because of him.”
I lift my eyes back to Kas, not really sure what to expect.
But there’s nothing. His expression is blank, his eyes devoid of any emotion.
Disappointment slams into me.
That disappointment quickly turns to panic when he stands abruptly. My fearful eyes follow him up.
“Get your things,” he tells me. “I’ll take you home.”
I rise slowly, my heart banging against my rib cage. “Mr. Matis…please…I—”
“You still have your job, Daisy.” He walks past me, heading for the door. “And you can call me Kas from now on.”
His words from the first day I met him come back to me. “My friends call me Kas.”
I guess he believes me.
I’m surprised at how much that matters to me. How much his opinion actually counts. To know that me just saying the words once to him was enough when a jury full of people didn’t believe me.
I blink back the tears threatening me and swallow back the Texas-sized lump in my throat. Then, I grab my shoes and bag and quickly follow after him.
Sixteen
Kas.
I step off the platform and onto the walkway, exiting the station, surprised to see his car sitting there.
Is he waiting on me?
Surely not.
Unsure as to why he’s here, I make my way down the ramp.
Should I go over to his car or just pretend I haven’t seen him?
I don’t want to go over if he’s waiting here for someone else, and then I’ll have to walk away…looking like a loser.
And why is this such a big decision?
For God’s sake, Daisy, just go over and say hello. Then, walk away if he doesn’t offer you a ride—which, more than likely, he won’t.
I step off the walkway and onto the street. His car is parked right in front of me.
Our eyes meet through the passenger window.
I ignore the way my heart rate spikes from having his eyes on mine.
He rolls down the passenger window. I walk toward his car.
“Daisy,” he says my name low.
That’s it. He says my name, and a shiver of delight runs through me—which is ridiculous.
Totally ridiculous.
Just because he was kind to me yesterday and believed me when I told him that I was innocent, not the thief he’d thought I was, doesn’t mean anything’s changed.
Does it?
He’s still my boss. And he still doesn’t like me very much.
And I don’t like him.
Right?
“Hi, Kas.” It feels weird, saying his name. I nervously tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “What are you doing here? I mean…you’re here…and you’re not normally here, at the train station.”
Jesus…Daisy.
Kas laughs at my rambling.
His third laugh.
I made him laugh.
Yes, I’m glowing. And, yes, I’m counting his laughs.
It’s just so rare that I hear him laugh, and I like the way it makes me feel when he does, so I’m counting.
“I was nearby, running an errand,” he tells me. “I saw your train pull in. Thought I’d give you a ride. Save you from walking.”
Holy…wow.
The Kas of last week would never have thought to stop and give me a ride. Here is a guy who drove past me in the rain and splashed me with a puddle.