Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 66978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
My shelf is full of amazing authors—some of the classics and some commercial fiction.
But today, none of them call to me.
Not even the trashy magazines sitting on my coffee table.
Today…I just feel…
I feel sorry for myself.
And angry with myself. Angry that I treated Leif and the others so badly today.
I always feel guilty afterward.
But I can’t seem to stop doing it.
Macy says it’s a defense mechanism. That I strike first before I can get struck myself.
She’s right, of course. The therapists on the island said the same thing.
In fact, I think that’s why they ultimately said I was ready to leave if I wanted to. Because I knew what my problem was.
I just haven’t been able to fix it yet.
It’s objective versus subjective.
Objectively, I know what my problem is and where it stems from.
Subjectively, though? That’s another story altogether. It comes down to habit. Old habits are hard to break. But I have to break them. I have to if I want a life—and I desperately want a life, and to live.
I never felt suicidal, not ever. Not even on the island.
Not even when my mother was at her worst.
Macy asked me if I wanted to see my mother again…my answer was a resounding no.
I don’t ever want to see that woman again.
I am curious though, whether she tried to find me when I went missing five years ago. Macy offered to look into it for me, but I told her not to.
First of all, I’m capable of looking into it myself. Reid Wolf has offered me any resources available.
But I don’t want to.
The truth is? I’m afraid to.
I’m afraid what I’ll find is that she never tried to look for me. That she didn’t care that I disappeared off the face of the earth.
Why would she? I wasn’t a daughter to her. I was simply a mouth to feed. Someone to treat horribly. To abuse. To make suffer. And then to pretend she did it all out of love for her only child.
What kind of a mother punches holes in her daughter’s volleyball—that her daughter paid for herself—and gives it to her as a birthday gift?
What the hell kind of mother does that?
I bet Aspen’s mother never did anything like that. Or Katelyn’s. Or Lily’s.
And that was far from the worst thing she did to me.
I try not to think about a lot of it, but it comes to me sometimes. Not in flashbacks or anything. Just images that force their way into the part of my mind I’ve tried to seal off.
I sigh, get off my couch, and walk to my bookshelf. I have to find—
I turn at the sound of a knock on my door.
It’s someone who’s already in the building, otherwise security would’ve called.
I look through my peephole.
Leif Ramsey.
Ex-Navy SEAL extraordinaire, and the most good-looking man I’ve ever seen in my short life.
“What do you want?” I demand through the door.
“I want to invite you to dinner,” he says.
“I’m busy.”
“I’m just going up to the eighth floor to have dinner with Buck and Aspen. They said I could invite you, and I’d like you to come. So would they.”
I unlock my deadbolt and undo my chain. Then I open the door and face him. “That is a damned lie and we both know it.”
“It’s not.”
I roll my eyes. “Neither of them wants to have dinner with me, and neither do you.”
He doesn’t reply, which tells me all I need to know.
“Look, I get that Reid Wolfe is paying you a fortune to watch over me, but I don’t need a babysitter. I’ve said it before.”
“This is dinner, Kelly.” His tone is even and steady, a little firm. “Dinner. That’s it.”
“No, this is you trying to get to know me. Trying to figure out why I am the way I am.”
Again, he doesn’t reply.
Which again, tells me everything I need to know.
“Is it such a crime to try to get to know you? I’ve been assigned to keep you safe. My job would be a lot easier if I knew you a little.”
“Who says I want to make your job easy?”
He shakes his head and sighs. “Message received. Sorry I bothered you.”
I go to shut the door, but my hands don’t move. I step outside, just as he’s sliding his key card through his own door.
“Wait!”
He turns and looks at me. “What is it now?”
I pause a moment, biting my lip. “I’ll go to dinner. I hate cooking anyway.”
I’m not sure why I changed my mind. I do hate cooking, but I can easily order takeout.
“Good enough. I’ll come get you at six.”
“Okay.”
Then I go back into my apartment and shut the door.
I’m not sure why I said yes. I’m also not sure why I said no in the first place.
I’m not really sure of anything anymore.
And that is my biggest problem.