Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 61897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
“Why are you helping me?” I asked.
“Because you don’t deserve this. Not after everything you did. And plus”—she grinned at me—“who in this world should stand in the way of love?”
I laughed, and she stood up, finishing her drink.
“Thanks for the whisky,” she said.
“Yeah,” I grunted. “Sure.”
“Let me know if you leave. Again, I can cover a week. Figure your shit out.”
“Yes, sir.” I stood up and saluted her.
She laughed. “God, that feels strange. The first time you’ve actually given me some respect.”
“First time you deserved it.” I grinned at her.
“At ease, soldier.” She turned and walked away, slipping out of my apartment silently.
I shook my head, completely amazed and mystified. Lieutenant Livy was much more badass than I had realized.
I finished my drink.
It took me two minutes to decide what I wanted to do.
I packed a bag in five. Another two minutes to piss and another ten to book a flight.
Then I was out the fucking door, and I wasn’t looking back.
It was a block just like any other.
Finding Selena wasn’t hard. Her parents were still listed in the phone book, and all it took was one call to her mom to get the address. Tracy was nice as hell, and she seemed pretty happy to hear from me.
So it seemed like Selena hadn’t told her the truth yet, which was good. Maybe she wasn’t as angry at me as she probably should’ve been.
I felt like an asshole when the cab dropped me off. My stuff was back at the hotel, and all I had were the clothes on my back. For some reason I felt like I should have brought a present, if not for Selena, then for her parents. But I had no clue how Chris was holding up, and so I didn’t want to do something stupid.
I was fucking nervous, I realized.
I hadn’t been nervous since my first tour of duty. I’d done some seriously heinous shit in my time, some really intense stuff, and never once had I felt butterflies.
But as I paid the cab and turned toward the nondescript Northeast Philadelphia row home, I had fucking butterflies.
It was unreal.
Nash Bell didn’t feel nervous. Little girls about to sing in front of their high school class got nervous.
I shook my head. I had to get myself together.
I walked up the walkway, up the stoop, and stood there in front of the door.
All I had to do was knock. Or maybe I should ring the bell. Fuck. For some reason I couldn’t lift my hand, couldn’t bring myself to knock.
What if she didn’t want to see me anymore? It wasn’t like I was used to telling women that I loved them. Fuck, she was the first one actually. I’d never wanted to say it, never been interested in love.
This must have been what it made you do, though, if I was so damn nervous.
“Nash?”
I turned around, a little surprised.
How were people sneaking up on me so much lately?
I stared as Selena as her mom climbed out of a car parked on the street. I must have been too nervous to even notice them pull up.
Selena stared at me, not saying a word, but Tracy was smiling. “Nash! It’s great to see you.”
“Hey there, Tracy,” I said, managing to smile. I walked toward them.
“How are you?” she asked, coming over and giving me a hug.
“I’m great. How are things here?”
“Oh, you know,” she said, frowning. “Is L.A. good?”
“It’s amazing.”
“Good. Good.” She looked at me and then at Selena. “Okay, well, I’ll let you two talk.” She quickly walked away, up the stoop, and into the house.
Selena was wearing tight black jeans, a simply white T-shirt, and her hair was pulled back into a bun. So simple, and yet so fucking perfect. That was how I liked her, not made up, not decked out in fancy clothes. I liked her simple, in jeans and a T-shirt, no makeup, just a fucking smile.
Except there was no smile there.
“Hey,” I said to her.
She stood across from me, her arms crossed. “What are you doing here, Nash?” she asked. “I can’t do any interviews right now.”
“How’s your dad doing?”
“He’s hanging in,” she said.
“Good.” I stared at her. “I’m not here about interviews.”
“Why are you here, Nash? Because I’m pretty sure you made how you feel pretty clear when you let me get on that plane alone.”
“I know,” I said. “Listen.”
“No. You listen, you asshole.” She was getting worked up. “I’m done with this. I don’t work for you. I’m not your fucking employee or some tool for you to use. You want to go back into combat? Fine, go, I don’t care. Just don’t show up on my doorstep ever again.”
“Selena—” I said, but she cut me off.
“No, no. I’m finished. Get it? You’re just going to run away to war again. I don’t know why you’re here, but I don’t care.”