Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 96292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Silence.
That’s it? She has nothing to say?
“What did you tell her about your past?”
I sit up in the chair and clear my throat just as Loki rubs up against my leg. “I told her I beat a man with a baseball bat for treating a young girl like a dog.”
More silence.
I drum my hand on my thigh.
She sighs. “Hold still.”
I freeze.
“That’s a lot to put on someone who doesn’t know you very well.”
“He was a terrible man,” I say.
“Does June know this man?”
“No.”
“Was she the girl you were protecting?”
“No.”
“Does she know the girl you were protecting?”
“No.”
“Then it’s too much. If she doesn’t feel invested in you, the man, or the girl, then it’s too much.”
“He put a fucking prong collar on her!” My fingers grip the arms of the chair.
Callie slowly sits up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Then she turns on the lamp.
We squint against the light for a few seconds as our eyes adjust.
“Vigilantes are complex. Sure, their intentions can be honorable. But to people who aren’t vigilantes, such extreme actions can seem appalling. Have you ever seen the show Dexter?”
I shake my head.
“Well, it’s about a serial killer who only kills other serial killers.”
“An eye for an eye,” I say.
“Yes. But not everyone lives by that mantra. All I’m saying is you need to give people a chance to know you before you give them everything. If people on dating apps only listed their bad or questionable traits, no one would swipe left or right or whatever direction you’re supposed to swipe.”
I deflate, closing my eyes briefly. “She asked me to kiss her. I thought … I don’t know. I thought we were there. So now what?”
“I don’t know, Flynn,” she rubs her temples. “You have to tell her everything, or she’ll feel lied to. But you could lose her.” She shakes her head. “I can’t make this decision for you. But it’s never a bad idea to show her your softer side. Flowers. Write her a poem. Bake her something.”
“I don’t have a softer side. No money for flowers. I’ve never written a poem, so there’s no need to start now. And I don’t know how to bake. What else do ya got?”
Callie rubs her hands over her face before sliding her fingers into her hair. Her weary expression triggers my guilt. I like her. Even if I don’t understand why she needs a muse, I like her. She’s kind, and I haven’t had a lot of that.
“I have a garden.” Her tired eyes find me, and she smiles, but it’s forced.
“You want me to pull weeds?”
“No.” When her feet hit the floor, she rests her hands on her hips to stretch her back. “I want you to go into my garden and find the prettiest flowers in full bloom and cut them at a forty-five-degree angle, leaving about four inches of stem, and tie them into a bouquet.”
“How many?”
Her hands flop to her sides, and she gives me a blank expression before shrugging. “That’s for you to figure out.”
“What do I tie them with?”
She pads her feet toward the bathroom. “Figure it out.”
The door clicks shut before I can ask another question, like what I should do if Rupert has me arrested before I can gather the flowers? Figuring it out on my own, I tiptoe down the hallway, listening for sirens or chatter from the main floor. All I can hear as I descend the stairs is the thrumming of my pulse in my ears.
“You’re an arrogant little shit with no respect for authority.”
I jump at Rupert’s voice behind me. Where was he hiding?
With a slow gulp, I gather as much false confidence as I can. “Maybe. But you knew that when you hired me.” I stop at the landing and he nods for me to keep going as he catches up to me.
A suit has replaced his robe and pajamas.
“Sit,” he says when I reach the last step.
I do as I’m told.
“No. Sit on the floor.”
This feels eerily similar to the man who put a prong collar on the girl I defended.
“Are you trying to belittle me?” I ask.
He narrows his eyes, pausing several steps above me. “Have you been belittled?”
After a beat, I slowly nod.
His lips twist as he navigates the last few stairs, sidestepping me. When he turns to face me, he crosses his legs and lowers his butt onto the marble floor in front of me.
I laugh a little to hide what feels like a fist to my gut. “What are you doing?” I shake my head, but I can’t look at his stupid face because he’s not grinning. He’s being nice. I don’t like nice because I don’t know what to do with it. I’d rather he punch me.
“I wanted you to obey for one goddamn moment. That’s all. I never want you to feel beneath me or anyone for that matter. And I don’t want you to feel the need to be an asshole to prove that you’re tough or worthy of respect. It’s exhausting, demoralizing, and unsustainable. Trust me.”