Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 137326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
This is the only time in my life I regret not having the ability to console others.
I doubt my and Jude’s method of kicking and hitting Preston while offering him food and meds is considered consolation for normal people.
“Sorry for being all gloomy on your victory night.” She smiles as she faces me. “I’ll make it up to you by being a cheerleader online.”
“That’s not important. Do you want to go see your sister?”
She shakes her head.
“How about food? I can cook you something. Maybe your favorite pasta?”
Another shake.
Fuck. Food is the only soft thing I know how to do correctly.
“Then what do you want, Dahlia? Unless you tell me, I don’t know.”
She grabs my sides beneath my jacket, her nails sinking into my T-shirt. When she looks up at me, her features soften and a shine flashes through. “I want to have fish.”
“Fish?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I don’t think we’ll find any at this hour.”
“Not here. In Maine.”
“Maine?”
“Yup.”
“Maine is more than a six-hour drive.”
She sulks. “Is that a no?”
“It’s a why Maine all of a sudden?”
“I want to see my hometown again. Can you come with me?”
There’s only one answer to that question.
Especially when she’s looking at me with a softness I’ve never seen before. Maybe there’s also a smidge of fear, but I understand that.
She probably thought she’d never step foot in Maine again.
I’ve seen the footage of her parents’ deaths. While she was watching it, I heard her murmur that she never wanted it to happen.
I know deep down that she blames herself for their deaths, which is probably why she never went back to Maine.
But right now, she wants to heal, and I’ll be part of that trip.
My and Dahlia’s understanding of road trips is entirely different.
For me, it’s simply driving and reaching the destination.
For Dahlia, however?
It’s a bizarre experience, to say the least.
She stuffed the car full of snacks, has blasted obnoxiously loud music, and has been singing her heart out—out of tune.
Oh, and apparently, we both need to power off our phones so that it’s distraction-free. She proceeded to do that and lock the phones in the glove compartment so we don’t have to ‘worry about anything we left behind.’
“That was amazing! Phew.” She grins as the song comes to an end. “Maybe the radio will repeat it.”
“I hope not. It was painful to hear the first time around.”
“Rude!” She hits my shoulder. “What’s your favorite song? Let’s see how you sound, Mr. Captain.”
“I don’t have one.” I focus on the road, the early-morning light painting the sky a deep magenta.
“No way.” She lowers the volume as the DJ speaks in the background. “I know you said you don’t listen to music much, but you must listen to something. Instrumental, maybe? Classical or jazz or, like, cool theme music?”
“Not really. It’s distracting.”
She sits sideways facing me as she stuffs her mouth full of gummies. “You’re like an alien. Hold on. How about a favorite movie?”
“Maybe The Game?”
“I don’t even know what that is. Mine is Scream.”
I laugh. “What a cliché.”
“At least you know what movie that is, unlike your pretentious choice.”
“Pretentious?”
“Yup.” She shoves a few gummies in my mouth. “You don’t even eat candy. What a pretentious, posh boy.”
I chew on the disgusting things, their extensive sweetness flooding my taste buds. “I’m an athlete. We should watch our diet, Ms. Medicine Major.”
“It’s okay once in a while. I bet you haven’t had anything sweet since you were a kid.”
“I’m not a fan of the taste.”
“Then what are you a fan of?”
“Fucking, chasing, choking, pounding, biting. Rough sex in general.”
A red blush covers Dahlia’s face and she chokes on the piece of candy in her mouth.
I suppress a smile. “You all right there?”
“You did that on purpose, asshole.”
“I was only answering your question ever so innocently.”
“There’s nothing innocent about you.” She nudges me with her foot, then rests it on my lap. “Have you always loved rough sex?”
“I suppose.”
“So…how many victims did you have before me.”
“Victims?”
“Women you chased.”
“I didn’t chase any woman before you.”
“You…didn’t?”
“Finding someone compatible with such a rough kink is harder than you think. Besides, I didn’t feel the real urge until you bulldozed through my life.”
“Wow. So it’s my fault?”
“Yeah.” I wrap my hand around her leg in my lap. “You’ll take responsibility for the monster you provoked.”
“Some would argue the monster has always been there. By some, I mean me.”
“Maybe, but you’re the one who broke the spell.”
“I mean, you broke the spell for me, too, so I guess we’re even.”
“Me?”
“Yeah.” She strokes my cheek. “I didn’t know I loved that type of sex until you. It kind of made me suspect my morals and consider therapy, but I accept myself now.”
I tighten my grip on her leg. “As you should.”
“Oh my God, I love this song!” She hikes up the volume and starts singing again, shamelessly loud, and tries to feed me the sugary things from the bag she’s holding.