Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 145942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 730(@200wpm)___ 584(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 730(@200wpm)___ 584(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
I trudge down to the bathroom, stopping on the way to grab a towel out of the hallway cupboard, and as I do, I can’t help but notice the four sets of eyes staring back at me from each open doorway of the four small bedrooms that line the far side of the house.
A million memories fly through my head. I used to be one of these kids. The need to tell them that things will get better flitters through my chest, but I can’t work out if I’d be lying or not, so I don’t say anything at all. I just grab my towel and keep on walking.
The shower is shit. The water pressure sucks and it’s a mess from already having four kids through it this evening, but after the past two days that I’ve had, it’s like stepping into heaven.
The hot water sails over my bruised skin, washing away the dirt under my nails while cleaning up the dried blood that’s been caked all over me, allowing me for the first time to get a good look at my injuries.
My fingers massage my skin, trying to ease the pain of my exhausted muscles as the shampoo rinses from my long hair. Being conscious of the limited water supply, I end my shower about three hours sooner than I would have liked. The floor mat is damp under my feet as I wrap the thin towel around my body.
A soft knock sounds at the bathroom door before I hear Karleigh’s gentle tone muffled through the wood. “Open up. I’ve got some fresh clothes here for you.”
My gaze shifts down to my ruined, dirty clothes on the bathroom floor and I realize that I’m never going to see them again. My fingers close around the door handle and I pull it open just enough for Karleigh’s hand to slip through the gap as she thrusts a pile of clothes my way. “Make it quick,” she tells me. “Your dinner is on the table.”
I take the clothes from her as a joyful happiness comes through me at seeing the brand-new pair of panties sitting right on top. There’s nothing better than clean underwear.
Not wanting my dinner to get cold, I rummage through the clothes, finding a pair of charcoal sweats that are about two sizes too big. I pull them up and have to fold them over at the top to keep them from falling down before squeezing into a black tank that looks like it belonged to me as a thirteen-year-old kid, but it still fits.
I twist my hair up into a bun before rubbing a little bit of moisturizing cream into my face. My gaze travels over myself, and when I realize that it’s not going to get any better, I let out a sigh and step out of the bathroom, preparing myself to face the music.
Karleigh stands in her modest kitchen, my bowl of spaghetti and meatballs in her hand as she walks across to the dining table. She places it down and turns to really take me in. Her face drops as she presses her lips into a tight line, her heart on her sleeve. “Oh, sweet girl. Come and sit down, then you’re going to tell me everything.”
Out of habit, I do exactly what I’m told, moving across the kitchen until my ass is falling down onto the hard wooden chair. Any other time, I’d be happy to sit at her table, having a home cooked meal, but after sitting on that old bike for so long, my ass is screaming at me to get right back up again. I wouldn’t dare disrespect her like that though. Karleigh deserves better.
I dig into my dinner, each bite I take somehow bigger than the last. “When was the last time you ate?” she questions as she crosses the kitchen and opens a cupboard.
I shrug my shoulders, my mouth too full to speak yet. “I don’t know,” I tell her after swallowing. “Maybe two days ago.”
Karleigh’s soft sigh is heard right across the kitchen as she grabs something from the cupboard and comes to sit down beside me. She places a small bottle of ointment down in front of her before reaching across and taking my free arm in her hands. She starts rubbing the ointment into my wounds and I hiss in pain. There’s nothing worse than Karleigh playing nurse.
I scoop another spoonful of pasta into my mouth as her thumbs massage soothing circles into my sore arms. “Start talking, Winter,” she insists.
I press my lips into a hard line as I turn to look at her, knowing with every ounce of my being that what gets discussed here tonight will never leave this table. “Elodie Ravenwood,” I tell her, watching as her brows drop and her thumbs stop moving.