Total pages in book: 193
Estimated words: 184001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 920(@200wpm)___ 736(@250wpm)___ 613(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 184001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 920(@200wpm)___ 736(@250wpm)___ 613(@300wpm)
“E-excuse me?”
“I said I’m not ready to go, but you can. As you can see, I’m perfectly fine and enjoying this little corner of the world, so not to worry. I’m sure you have a lot to do back home.”
“Is this a joke?”
“What part sounded funny to you?” I stop to pick up a statuette of a slender deer with large antlers. While we were in town earlier, Khalil had been approached by a few people who were eager to have him carve custom pieces like this statuette for them. I was even more surprised to learn that he sold his for a fraction of the price of whatever designer company the decorator had purchased it from.
“Aurelia, you can’t possibly think that I’ll allow you to stay here. Your place is with me back in the States.”
“You didn’t seem to think that when you sent me here.”
“That was for your own good,” Uncle Mars volleys back.
“I think a plane crash and all the people who died horrible deaths except for me would beg to differ.”
“You can’t blame yourself for that.” He waves dismissively.
“Then who should I blame, Uncle? You?”
“It’s no one’s fault. It was a rogue blizzard. An act of God.”
“Well, that act of God came with a warning that you ignored, and it got nine people killed.”
“Eight.”
I freeze, and out of my peripheral I could swear Khalil does the same. “Run that back?”
“The crash only killed eight. You weren’t the only survivor, Aurelia.”
It feels as if I’ve been punched in the gut. Sensing the change, Khalil rushes over to me, and I grab his arms to steady myself. I don’t even care that my uncle is witnessing me fall apart or that I’m accepting comfort from a strange man.
“W-who?” I finally ask even though my tormented heart has already whispered his name to me.
“Tyler Westbrook,” he offers immediately. “Your bodyguard.”
“No. I…I saw him. The avalanche… It pushed him over the cliff.”
Thorin and Seth’s whispered conversation during one of my brief bouts of consciousness after they saved me from the storm came rushing back.
“She kept calling me Tyler.”
“You mean the kid we found a week ago?”
And then later, when the four of us were lounging in Khalil’s bed just needing to be close after Thorin tried to give Seth a haircut and Seth tried to disembowel him with the scissors. Khalil had been acting like a jealous boyfriend wanting to know if I’d slept with my bodyguard.
I told him that the answer didn’t matter because he was dead, and none of them corrected me. They let me believe the worst so they could have me all to themselves.
“No.” I shake my head. “That’s impossible.”
Was it? the voice in my head asked. Was it truly impossible that Tyler survived the avalanche, or did I simply not want to believe that my mountain men had lied to me?
“He survived,” my uncle insists. “Tyler’s alive. He was found by search and rescue and brought home.”
My gaze flies to Khalil, whose jaw twitches when he reads the accusation in my eyes.
You told me he was dead.
I know. Later, his eyes seem to plead.
But what possible explanation could he have for intentionally causing me pain?
“Westbrook was in a coma for a few weeks, but he’s already made a swift recovery,” Uncle Mars continues. “I’m sure knowing you made it too will make up for the loss of his leg.”
My uncle coldly delivers that last bit of news like the dagger to the heart it’s intended to be.
Bile riles in my throat when I fail to push away the image of Tyler waking up in the hospital, confused, scared, and missing a limb.
All my fault.
“Come with me.” My uncle’s tone is gentle when he holds out his hand. “I can take you to him. I know how close you two were.”
It’s a lie. If my uncle had the smallest inkling how much Tyler had meant to me as my only friend, he wouldn’t have hesitated to fire him and have him blackballed from the industry to ensure we were never in the same room again.
“I…I can’t.” I realize how that sounds when the sheriff shifts in agitation and starts eyeing Khalil like he’s imagining him in handcuffs. “I-I mean I want to stay. My place is here.”
The microscopic shift in my uncle’s demeanor would be undetectable to the untrained eye. Unfortunately, I’ve had a lot of practice recognizing and navigating my uncle’s temper. I know the moment his mask starts to slip when he realizes his plot to use Tyler to manipulate me is failing. “What about Tyler? Don’t you want to see him?”
“Yes, but not if it means going back with you.”
“Why the hell not?”
I barely suppress the urge to flinch and keep my voice light like I’m just a girl who’s lost in the throes and machinations of love and new beginnings. It can’t be helped. “Because I like it here. I want to stay.”