Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 76022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
But that was too risky.
So I shook it off and rode him harder, faster, until we were both wet with sweat and panting for breath, then crying out as we came.
“You okay?” Saul asked afterward as his fingers sifted through my hair. “Coulda sworn you were working through something there.”
“Just working my way toward an orgasm,” I said, wincing as I lied to him. Again.
“Este…”
“Not everything has to mean something deeper.”
My tone was too sharp.
And the look on Saul’s face said he wasn’t immune to the cut, to the sting.
“Okay,” he agreed, reaching for my hips.
But I was lifting off of him, knowing my shell was too fragile. Even the slightest bit of pressure would make me crack. And some secrets had to be kept. Whether I liked that or not.
“Honey…”
“I’m just going to take a shower,” I said, grabbing my change of clothes.
There was silence for a beat. Then, “Okay. I’ll take Trix out then.”
I squeezed my eyes shut at the distance in his voice, the guards he was putting in place to protect himself from my suddenly sharp edges.
I would make it up to him.
I just needed a couple of minutes to myself to pull it together, to remind myself that just because I was keeping a few secrets didn’t mean I wasn’t giving him mostly the truth.
Try as hard as I could, though, there was a lingering tension between us all through breakfast and while taking Trix for a walk.
Saul didn’t reach for my hand.
I was too sad about that fact to just reach for his instead.
That afternoon, when he helped Trix into my backseat, our goodbye felt strange, awkward, like we were strangers again.
As I drove away, my heart felt like it was cracking right down the center.
And I had this bone-deep fear that I was never going to see Saul again.
I dropped Trix at home and dragged myself to work, wanting something to do to distract myself from the sensation of something slipping between my fingers.
Something that felt a hell of a lot like love.
I blamed that distraction.
For not realizing my house was too dark when I made it home later that night, that the lights I left on for Trix (and my own sanity) were out.
For not immediately having my panic alarms going off when Trix didn’t come bounding toward me the second she heard the door unlock.
“Trix?” I called, reaching to flick on a light, but no illumination came.
My stomach twisted as I felt around for the lamp on the table, pressing the button.
Again, nothing.
Was the power out?
Was that why Trix was upset?
“Trixie, girl,” I tried, pitching my voice sweeter even as the familiar panic started to course through my veins, making my chest feel tight and my heart punch against my ribs. “Come here, baby.”
I’d just moved into the doorway to the kitchen when I saw her.
Lying on her side.
A prone figure in the dark.
“Trix!” I yelped, rushing forward to drop down beside her, my hands going to her chest.
It was rising and falling.
But no matter how much I shook her, she wasn’t waking up.
Had she eaten something she shouldn’t have? Did I need to get her to the emergency vet? Have her stomach pumped?
“Trix, wake up, baby. Don’t do this to me,” I cried, fumbling for my phone.
But it was right then I saw something move out of the corner of my eye.
A scream gathered in my chest.
Then died in my throat.
The shadow that had haunted me for years was back.
And it was coming right for me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Este
No.
No, no, no, no, no.
A cry rose in my throat but died there as fear squeezed my throat.
This could not be happening.
I was supposed to be safe in Shady Valley.
Well, if not safe exactly, then at least able to have some sort of heads-up. He should have stood out like a sore thumb. I should have seen him from a mile away.
Even as I thought that, though, he loomed closer.
That familiar height—almost unnaturally tall.
But the frame was different.
Much thinner than I remembered him.
Gone was at least a hundred pounds, probably more.
Could it be that simple?
Had weight loss made him not stand out to me?
Even though I knew that face? Those eyes?
Had I even been looking?
I knew the answer immediately.
No.
No, I’d been too damn distracted.
I was working, renovating, falling for Saul, spending time with my dog.
I didn’t remember the last time my gaze simply scanned the streets or the stores when I was inside them.
Could he have been here all along? Lurking around aisle end caps? Watching me from a parked car? Hiding in a corner of the pool hall?
I hated to admit it, but… maybe.
I’d been so careful. My whole life had been built around rituals that forced me to be hyper-aware of my surroundings, of everyone who was—and wasn’t—around me.
It was imperative.
It was how I knew it was time to pack and run.