Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 53212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 266(@200wpm)___ 213(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 266(@200wpm)___ 213(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
“Could’ve fooled me.” She lets out a small, humorless laugh. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile.”
I tighten the last bolt harder than necessary. “Well, that’s probably because I hate everyone.”
That earns me a look. A skeptical one.
“Wow. That’s so…comforting,” she says dryly.
Fuck, Rook. This is really going well. Clearly, I need to make sure she gets home safely and then get some distance from her before I can say any more stupid shit.
“All set.” I lower the jack and stand, brushing my hands off on my jeans.
“That was…insanely fast,” she says, marveling down at the spare tire that’s now in place. “Thank you.”
“Any time.” I almost walk away, but I can’t. Not without cautioning her more—not without leaving her with some impression of me other than disapproval and apathy.
I care. The problem is, I care way too fucking much.
“I know you’re good and kind and friendly. But the rest of the world isn’t as benevolent as it seems.”
“Huh?” Her brow furrows. “What’s the supposed to mean?”
“It means to trust your instincts. They were spot-on tonight. Keep listening to them and, more than anything else, avoid him.”
“Avoid who?”
My eyes hold hers and my voice softens. It’s perhaps the gentlest I’ve ever let myself sound toward her, and it’s all because I want her to listen—to me, to herself, to all of it. “You know exactly who I mean.”
She hesitates, assessing me carefully before agreeing. “Okay.” I can’t decide if she’s taking me seriously or filing it away under Rook being weird again, but I have to hope this thing between us stacks the deck for the first.
I glance down and meet her gaze, desperate to get an inkling of where her mind is at right now.
The blue of her eyes is sharper than I remember, curiosity sending a zing of glitter through the deep pools of iris.
Women who know what’s coming learn how to dull their eyes on command—to stow their emotions behind a veil. That’s how I know without a shadow of a doubt that Kylie Moon has no idea what’s on the horizon.
Her soul is wide open.
Turning abruptly, I head over to my truck to toss the flat tire and jack inside the bed. Every step feels like I’m wading through mud. My body, much to my chagrin, has absolutely no clue why I’m getting farther away from her.
When I return, she’s got her passenger door open, rooting around in her skate bag. Holland’s presence still pulses, heightening my anxiousness enough to hurry her along. “Now’s not the time to reorganize your shit. It’s time for you to get home. Don’t stop anywhere.”
Her brows knit, both in affront and confusion. “Ah, yes. An ominous command. I love those.”
I sigh, forcing myself to stop being such a dick unintentionally. “It’s late. It’s dark. I’m concerned. That’s all.”
“Well, thanks, I guess.”
I move to her car and open the driver’s side door, holding it open for her and silently gesturing for her to get her ass inside. She stares at me for a long moment before a small laugh bubbles up. “Well, alrighty then. Going home it is.”
I wait in silence as she climbs inside the car and tucks herself in with a click of her seat belt. When I shut the door, she rolls down the window.
“Thanks, Rook. I…appreciate the help.”
She says my name like it means something, and my body responds like it believes her, every nerve going taut from head to toe.
“You’re welcome.” I nod. But I also really want her to get out of this fucking parking lot and somewhere safe. “Straight home, remember?”
She laughs, starting the engine with a nod, rolling up her window, and heading out of the rink parking lot while I watch.
The SUV is gone. The sedan is gone. But that doesn’t change the reality that they tried to isolate her, and they’ll do it again.
Tonight’s offer to drive her home. Friday’s event invitation. They both left room for a no, but soon, they won’t take no for an answer.
I climb into my truck and sit there longer than I should with my hands tight on the wheel. I tell myself I’m not going to cross the line. I tell myself I’m not going to get involved.
But when I pull out my phone and look at the list in my notes app…
Flat Tire
Private Event
I know I’m lying.
Kylie
I awaken harshly to the sound of a garbage can banging into the ground and bolt straight up to sitting in bed. The numbers on my alarm clock taunt an hour that rubs—six a.m., and precisely thirty minutes before my usual wake-up—so bad it hurts.
The sheet is creased into both my arms like I slept motionless, and a crust of mouth-breathing drool tugs at the corner of my lips.
Lovely.
I scrub at my face with the sheet—one I’m washing tomorrow anyway—then mash my palms into my eyelids like I can physically shove the exhaustion back where it came from. I’m so worn thin lately, it’s starting to feel like I work for a prison warden—