Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 99736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
With work shit weighing me down, though, I don’t want to bring Anders down with me.
When I was assigned to this rape case and I confided in Anders, it triggered his nightmares. It makes me think Anders could still be lying to me about what truly happened to him.
He says his issues aren’t with sex, but the lack of control connected with sex. I guess PTSD presents itself in different ways, but I’m still suspicious.
If I had to face Anders after sitting through the countless depositions for the case, I don’t think I could hold it together.
There are countless jokes about lawyers being heartless. After today, where I had to ask a sixteen-year-old girl about her sexual habits and imply she’s easy, I don’t find the jokes funny anymore. I am heartless. Or, at least, I feel it right now.
I asked the associate in charge of the case if she ever wonders if she’s on the wrong side of the law—especially on a case like this—and all she did was say “That’s why we make the big bucks.”
Like money is supposed to clear my conscience.
There’s not enough money in the world to make my humanity disappear.
At least, I don’t think there is. I hope there isn’t.
Being desensitised to stuff like this is probably the only way to deal with it, but who wants to be an emotional desert?
When my father offered me this job, I figured I’d be getting corporate A-holes off for tax evasion or, I don’t know, crimes that are wrong but don’t make me feel sick to my stomach.
I’m beginning to realise why my father’s as cold as he is. He needs thick armour to do what he does every day.
Anders isn’t even in the apartment when I get home, and I’m so emotionally wrecked, I don’t bother changing out of my suit. I faceplant onto the couch on my way to my bedroom.
My phone pings with the work email alert, and I try to find any fucks to give.
Nope. All out. Sorry.
I don’t know how long I lie on the couch for. It’s very possible I pass out, because I wake to the sound of the shower running in Anders’ bathroom.
To get up and hide in my bedroom or to stay where I am?
I try to move and come up with the answer.
Where I am. Definitely stay where I am.
The shower turns off. This is my small chance to make a break for it.
“Rough day again?”
Too late.
I sit up and turn to Anders. Who’s only wearing a towel.
Holy shit.
Holy fucking shit.
He usually comes out of the bathroom fully dressed.
I didn’t know a torso could be so long. Do the Steele brothers have stumps for legs? I check. Nope. Definitely normal-sized legs. They’re toned too.
My gaze travels back upwards, over the perfect V sticking out from the towel, toned abs … pierced nipples.
“Umm, was it so bad you’ve forgotten how to talk?”
Nope. I’m just admiring the amazing view.
Don’t say that, you creep.
“It was a long day,” I say.
He looks confused. “You’re home at the usual time.”
“Mentally, it was a long day.”
“You working this weekend?”
“It’s Friday already?” I don’t have to go into work on most weekends, but I can’t remember the last time I had a full Saturday off. Things at work have been crazy busy since Anders moved in.
Anders laughs. “Yeah. It is. That charity thing at Law’s dojo is this weekend. You going?”
“Charity thing?”
“I assumed Reed would’ve told you. Law’s giving free self-defence lessons and trying to find donations to upgrade his dojo. His LGBTQ student program is exploding, so he wants to look for a bigger space.”
“Oh cool. Uh, when is it?”
“Tomorrow afternoon.”
I nod and use all my effort to stand. I need to get away from a half-naked Anders ASAP. “I’ll be there. But right now, I need to go pass the fuck out in my bed.”
When I do eventually collapse onto my bed, I can’t help wondering if I make a big donation at this thing tomorrow, if my conscience will be clean.
My inability to go to sleep tells me no. That bitch wants me to toss and turn all night and deal with the implications of my actions.
Great, now my conscience has taken on the voice of my mother. There’s no coming back from that.
When I hear the TV turn on around two in the morning, I’m thankful for the distraction and hopefully some company.
If Anders is okay with that. And dressed this time.
I find him in the dark; the only thing lighting the room is the blue hue from the television. He’s got a blanket over the top of his head and wrapped around him, and he sits cross-legged on the couch.
Anticipating the jump scare I tend to do to him, I alert him of my presence before he can flip out.