Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 134741 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134741 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
The rush of fear filled me as she disappeared into the store.
Familiar hints on my psyche whispered that something had happened to me in a department store. Had I been kidnapped in one of them? Had I lost my family while they purchased soaps and sweaters?
I couldn’t remember, and I refused to go digging. Eventually, I’d have to face those memories, but not today. Not while I was lucid and almost starting to enjoy being in a car, on a journey where I didn’t even know the destination.
Gem hadn’t kept me waiting long. She’d returned wearing new jeans, a yellow T-shirt with a sunburst on the front, along with a gray windbreaker. She’d tossed me a bag as she’d climbed back behind the wheel and buckled up.
I’d opened it with caution, finding a pair of dark jeans, an off-white T-shirt, some socks, a pair of black boots, and a hoodie with a tiny scorpion stitched into the hem. I’d changed my smoke-riddled clothing for new while she drove, my awe at how she handled the pedals, the steering wheel, and changing gear never ceasing.
When she’d first started driving, slipping into traffic and adding speed, my heart had chugged in fear. It’d been so fucking long since I’d been any faster than a run.
White had flickered on my vision, reminding me that all this newness was too much for my concussed mind, and fear switched to anger. As my hands balled, I did my best to remember what the doctor had said. The tricks he’d recommended I use whenever my mind took control.
I’d close my eyes and breathe deep, reminding myself I was safe and sane. It was a silly trick...but it worked.
Gemma reached over and patted my knee, bringing me back to the present moment again, squeezing me as if she was determined to keep me with her this time. “Is this all too much, Kas?” Her eyes flicked to the road, keeping us straight and following the cars ahead. “I can’t imagine how overwhelming all of this is for you. Leaving the hospital, traveling in a car for the first time in forever, new clothes that didn’t come from an awful guests’ wardrobe, an entire world open to you after living in the wild.”
She looked at me again, worry tightening her pretty hazel eyes. “I’m taking you home, and you’ll be safe there, but I’m aware a lot of things are changing for you. I’ll do my best to be as understanding as I can, but you can rely on one thing that will never change.”
My heart flipped with love for this wonderful girl, gratefulness softening my stress and pain. “Oh? What’s that?” I licked my lips, doing my best to tame my raging headache.
“Me. I’ll always be there.” She squeezed my knee again. “No matter what.”
I covered her hand with mine, staring at our linked fingers in silence. She glanced at me and smiled, but I didn’t know what to say.
How did I reply to that?
How did I tell her that I needed that promise so fucking badly to be true? That I needed her and not in some superficial new puppy love kinda way but in an I might not actually survive this transition without you terrifying kinda way.
Who wanted that burden placed on their shoulders? All I’d ever done was bring her pain and imprisonment, and now that we were heading back to her home, I only brought more issues instead of peace.
Removing her hand from mine, she placed it on the gearshift.
The silence continued to thicken between us. The hair on the back of my neck prickled as I struggled for something to say. Something that didn’t admit: ‘I’m not sure how long I’ll cope, and I’m doing my best to hide it.’
“How...how much longer to your home?” I asked quietly.
She smiled in my direction. “Another few hours or so.”
“And you live alone, right? I’m not...going to be a pain in the ass?”
She chuckled. “You’re not a pain in the ass, regardless if I had roommates or not.”
“Isn’t it lonely living by yourself?” Images of endless winters in the valley came and went. The ache in my heart was all too recent not to sympathize with someone who also lived alone, even if our circumstances were different. Vague memories of her telling me about her living situation came and went. We’d had a similar conversation back in the valley, I was sure of it.
Stupid concussion.
“It had its moments, yes.” She switched lanes and sped past a slow car. “That’s why I work a lot. I latch onto new climbs the moment they appear. I tell myself it’s because I’m cashing into my channel while revenue is good, but the real reason is because sleeping alone isn’t something I enjoy.”
My head pounded with all the new words she’d used. Words that I knew but not in the context she’d used them. “Cashing into your channel?”