Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 76717 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76717 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Henry chuckles at that, but his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Sure, as long as it doesn’t come with any veiled insults.”
I laugh genuinely this time. “No veiled insults. Promise.”
We share stories about work, school, reminisce about our childhood and keep the conversation light, given the circumstances with Uncle Joe.
By the time we finish our meals and pay the bill, it’s already late. Henry rises and stretches. “I should head back to the hotel. Early morning meeting tomorrow.”
I nod, pushing back my chair as well. “I’ll walk you out.”
We make our way through the restaurant. The crisp night air hits us as we step outside, causing me to pull my jacket a bit closer as we walk to my car.
“Take care of yourself, sis,” Henry says, pulling me into a brief hug.
“You too,” I reply, stepping back and looking up at him. “And try not to work yourself to death.”
He smiles at that. “I’ll do my best.”
With a final wave, he heads down the street to where he parked his car. I watch him go, left alone with my thoughts once again. As I get into my car, my mind drifts back to Jason and Ralph.
Despite my attempts to dismiss them, nagging doubts continue to gnaw at me. If Jason isn’t responsible for what happened to Ralph…then who is?
Chapter Eighteen
Jason
After pounding on Angie’s door earlier in the evening—no answer—I keep watch for her car to drive up.
Fuck Ralph, anyway.
He was after Angie.
Of course he was. She’s beautiful, kind, smart. Who wouldn’t want her?
And when she rebuffed him, he retaliated.
None of that explains who kicked his ass, but I don’t rightfully care, to be honest. He had it coming. Trying to screw me over with HR, coming on to Angie. He’s a freak.
Besides, he’s older. Who the hell does he think he is? Angie’s just a—
I stop my thought.
Ralph is probably close to my age. Maybe a little older. Hard to tell. And I fell for Angie.
Who wouldn’t?
I continue to watch the cars drive by until—
Angie’s car.
It’s close to eleven o’clock on a weeknight. Where the hell has she been?
Probably studying at the library. No need to be concerned. Besides, Ralph can’t hurt her. He’s bandaged up in a hospital bed.
Once her car disappears into her garage, I put on my jacket and scarf and walk the three doors to her place.
I pound on the door and wait, shifting from foot to foot, hands jammed into my pockets for warmth. Tillie’s shrill bark echoes through the door.
Angie opens the door, Tillie wriggling in her arms.
“Jason?” She sets Tillie down. “What is it? I was just about to put her out. She’s been alone for several hours.”
“I know.” I cross my arms. “You weren’t here.”
She raises her eyebrows.
I thin my lips. “I mean, I came over earlier.”
“Oh. Sorry. Come on in.”
I enter while she ushers Tillie out the back door.
“So where were you?” I demand, my voice more commanding than I mean it to be.
She crinkles her eyes. “I had a dinner date.”
Jealousy spears into me. “With a man?”
She smiles. “As a matter of fact, yes.”
My heart plummets. I hadn’t even considered the possibility that she’d be seeing anyone else. “Oh.”
“But don’t get too worked up,” she adds, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
“Why shouldn’t I? Do you like him?”
“Well, yeah. I love him, actually.”
My stomach drops.
She holds up a hand. “Easy, Jason. You look like a truck just hit you. I had dinner in Westminster. With my brother.”
Relief washes over me like a tidal wave, leaving me weak at the knees. I slump onto one of her kitchen chairs, massaging my forehead. “Oh.”
She chuckles softly at that, crossing her arms as she leans against the kitchen counter. “You look like you just dodged a bullet.”
“Feels like it,” I admit, trying to regain some semblance of composure.
God, all that’s going on. I’m in love with my student, I’m dealing with this experimental surgery and its fallout, the HR nightmare…and Lindsay’s suicide note. Plus, Angie thought—if only for a fleeting moment—that I’m the one who attacked Ralph.
My life is a fucking trainwreck.
“Anyway,” Angie continues, pushing herself off the counter and moving toward the fridge. “Can I get you something to drink? You look like you could use one.”
“Water is fine,” I reply, watching her as she moves with ease around her kitchen.
She fills a glass from the tap on the refrigerator and hands it to me, her fingers brushing against mine as I take it. The contact sends a jolt of electricity through me, a reminder of the chemistry that seems to spark whenever we’re together.
“Thanks,” I mumble.
She simply nods and leans back against the counter, studying me with an unreadable expression. “You didn’t just come here for the water, did you?”
“No,” I admit. “I wanted to talk about Ralph.”
Immediately, her relaxed demeanor stiffens. Her eyes narrow slightly as she crosses her arms protectively over her chest. “What about him?”