Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 134073 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 670(@200wpm)___ 536(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134073 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 670(@200wpm)___ 536(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
I don’t let myself wonder about those feelings because it’s all too much for me to handle right now. He takes a step back, and I immediately miss his warmth. I’m a starved kitten wanting all of his affection and attention.
“I got you something to eat.” He bends down and grabs a bag off the floor. He must have dropped it when he walked in. He reaches inside and pulls out a sandwich and an orange juice.
“Thanks.” I sit down and eat my breakfast as Dutch runs his hand through his short hair. Something seems off.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, and he lets out a bark of laughter, surprising both of us.
“To be honest, I have no fucking clue what I am right now.” I totally understand that. “Did you get enough to eat?”
“Yes.”
A voice comes over the speaker, letting us know we’re coming to our final stop. Dutch gets the rest of our stuff together so we’re able to take off.
“Will I be meeting people today?” I ask tentatively. Could today be the end of the line for Dutch and me? He said I was his for the time being. What happens when that time is up?
“No. This is only the first part of our trip.” I don’t miss that he doesn't fill me in on what is coming next. “Do you want to meet them now?”
“It would be nice to have this settled.” I shrug.
I think about the woman in the picture holding the little girl he said was me. I’m not completely sure, but what I do know is that I look a lot like her. It’s almost laughable how I’d always wondered why I never had any similarities to my own mom. Not that any of this crap is true, but I suppose we’ll know soon enough.
“Then what? You go back home to your fake parents?” he challenges.
“Don’t be a dick.” I glare at him.
“I recall you enjoying my dick.”
I gasp. “You’re a real jerk, you know that?”
He lets out a long sigh, running his hand down his face. “Yeah, I know that, little bit.”
I turn my face away from him, not wanting him to know how his words sting. It isn’t only what he said, but it’s how he can flip from sweet to something else altogether. My mom does that a lot. I should be used to it, but it hurts more when it comes from him.
“Hey.” He grabs my hand, and I can feel the train already coming to a stop.
“Guess we should get going.” I force a smile. If there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s pretending that everything is fine when it’s not. He doesn’t say anything for a long moment and finally nods.
“Yeah. We should.” He tosses the bag over his shoulder, never letting go of my hand. People crowd in the walkway, trying to get off the train as he leads us through it.
“I’m so excited, I’ve never been to America,” the girl standing behind me says. “Have you and your dad been here before?”
“Husband,” he corrects her, and mine and the girl’s eyes widen. Before I can say anything, he’s pulling on my hand to follow him off the train. I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.
“Where to, Daddy?” I tease.
“Knock it off.” He keeps pulling me, but I swear I see something flash in his eyes. It’s the same hunger I saw in them last night. Did he like me calling him that?
“Slow down. My legs are half the size of yours, and now that I’m off the train I realize I’m a bit sore all over.” He actually slows his steps for me and then squeezes my hand.
“Need me to carry you?” I think he’s teasing, but he suddenly stops.
“I can walk!” I shout as he reaches for me. After a second he nods, and we start moving again. “Where are we going?”
“We need a car.”
“I’m guessing since you said need and not have, we’re stealing one?” He grunts his response.
“Can I at least use the bathroom?” I ask, not knowing how long we’ll be on the road.
“Fine.” He doesn't seem happy about it, but he leads me over to one of the restrooms in the train station. “Make it quick.”
“Yep,” I say as I see him doing the same on the other side.
After I use the stall I go over to the sink and wash my hands.
“Iris.” I jerk my head up, and in the mirror I see there’s a big man standing behind me. “Your father sent me.” He grabs my arm and starts to pull me out of the bathroom. “We need to hurry.”
“But wait, I think there’s a big misunderstanding.” I try and twist free as he pulls me along, but it’s no use. His grip on me turns painful, and I cry out. “Let’s talk about this like rational adults.”