Total pages in book: 13
Estimated words: 11908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 60(@200wpm)___ 48(@250wpm)___ 40(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 11908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 60(@200wpm)___ 48(@250wpm)___ 40(@300wpm)
I slowly took her hand, shaking it. Her smile widened, and I relaxed a bit. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to be anything like her asshole old man, Blink. I was grateful to the man for taking me in and coming to my rescue, along with cleaning up my house after Grit killed both of those men, but that didn’t change the fact that he was still a bit of a dick.
“Anyway, I won’t stay long. I know you probably want some space and a little seclusion right now. But if you need anything, please come find me. I want you to feel at home here.”
And with that, she left the room, shutting the door behind her with a quiet click. When I looked at the nightstand, sure enough, a tray was sitting there with everything she’d listed, along with a pack of crackers. My chest squeezed. I’d been on my own for years since my parents had passed away, and being welcomed into their family so seamlessly left me aching.
“She seems nice,” I rasped.
Grit hummed. “She’s honestly the sweetest woman I’ve ever met,” he admitted. “Don’t know why the fuck she loves Blink, but they work.”
I arched a brow at him. “The sweetest?” I deadpanned as I took a seat on the bed.
Grit snorted. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch, sunshine. You’re too spicy to be that sweet.” He gripped my chin and tilted my head back so our eyes were forced to meet. His were dark, almost black, and sinking into their depths left me feeling soothed and calm. Like nothing could touch me. I needed that so badly after what I’d been through.
“You okay?” he asked, forcing his tone to gentle.
I shrugged. “No. Not right now,” I admitted. “I just need some time, I think. And maybe a therapist.”
He nodded. “As soon as it’s safe, we’ll find you a therapist,” he promised. Shaking his head, he heaved a sigh filled with apologies and regret. “I’m so fucking sorry our shit touched you, sunshine.”
I shook my head and circled my fingers around his thick wrist. “Nothing for you to be sorry for. Whether you have issues with that club or not doesn’t excuse what they did to me.” I swallowed thickly. “They made those choices, Grit,” I croaked, my voice a bit strangled. “It doesn’t fall on you or anyone else in this club, okay?” I drew in a deep breath. “Just… can you make me a promise?”
He nodded, his eyes boring into mine. “Anything, sunshine.”
“Make them all pay,” I whispered, a tear running down my cheek. Grit leaned in and kissed it away. “Make sure the rest of them can’t do this to someone else.” The justice system would just let them out in a few years, if they even got convicted of anything, which meant they could turn around and hurt someone else. I didn’t want that chance.
He nodded. “I’ll mop the floors of their clubhouse with their own fucking blood,” he swore.
7
Nicole
Ijerked awake, my heart hammering in my chest. The room was dark, almost pitch-black. The TV had been turned off sometime after I fell asleep, and only the red glow of the clock on the nightstand offered some kind of light into the room.
“You good?” Grit called, his voice rough but quiet in the dead of the night.
Fumbling around on the nightstand, I finally found the switch for the lamp and clicked it on, flooding the room with a soft, muted, golden glow. Grit was perched in the chair at his desk, his eyes on me. If he’d been anyone else watching me as intently as he was, I’d have thought he was a predator. But I knew better now. He was a protector, not a predator—at least, not to me.
Reaching up, I rubbed my tired eyes, wishing I could sleep without reliving what the fuck happened to me. I was so tired. But what happened just kept playing on repeat in my head and wouldn’t fucking go away.
“Want to talk about it?” Grit spoke up again when I didn’t answer his first question. “It might help. At least, that’s what my therapist told me before I was discharged.” He shrugged one shoulder, falling silent and leaving the decision to open up about what happened to me before he got there in my hands.
Did I want to talk about it? He clearly knew what happened. He’d walked in on it. But he didn’t know everything. How I’d been trying to climb out my bathroom window so I could get to safety when they’d broken into my home. How I’d been dragged down by my hair and into the living room…
“I…” I swallowed and licked my lips, hating how chapped they felt. I always took such pride in my appearance. My lips were always either coated in chapstick or lip-gloss, and I had a whole ass skin care routine I went through each morning and night. I hated to see what my hair looked like right then. My curls were probably frizzy and damn near unmanageable.