Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 45217 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45217 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
“I’ve got the perfect time.”
I smirk, leaning down and kissing her hard on the lips. She moans and sits up, allowing me to glide my hand down her arm, over her hip, to her thigh. I squeeze her thigh, sliding my hand to her hole, knowing I’ll never need another woman. She’s the only person I ever want or need, my woman—only mine.
I killed this woman’s father. I did it because I had to. He was evil and threatening a child, but I still killed him. I’m still a murderer. I’m still what some people would think of as a sinner. Yet she loves me as much as I love her.
When I glide into her for the second time, I take it slowly, kissing her gently as we sink into a different kind of lovemaking. Eventually, she nervously asks me if she can go on top. We link hands as she rocks up and down over me, our eyes locked on each other. Her smile is the most beautiful sight. This moment alone makes everything worth it, and we still have an entire journey ahead.
“I love you,” she whimpers, moving faster. “I love you. I… love… you.”
We kiss, reaching another shared finish, but it’s just the start.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Lucy
“We’re fostering you for now,” I tell Zack.
I’m trying to be careful not to get his hopes up. In hindsight, I think Juliet had a point there. I meant the promise I made to him in the hospital, but what if he can’t stay with us? What if they don’t think we have a stable environment?
We’re sitting in the yard, Zack on the picnic blanket, his legs splayed. He’s had a haircut, buzzing off his long, blond locks. He said it was because he wanted to forget the sort of kid he was when he had long hair.
He finds it difficult, I know. During these past three weeks, life has moved so fast—all the meetings, the emergency foster application. The police and the city are hurrying it through, mainly because Jamie has been writing up a storm, liaising with agents about his writing.
“And I know the perfect editor,” he told me last night, cuddling close to me in bed.
“You don’t have to say that.”
“I mean it,” he replied. “Without you, that article wouldn’t have had half the impact it did.”
He could leave me any time he wanted, disappear into a new life. Sure, there would be drama since much of his image is based on us, but he could do it. He could then write a book about it, forget me, and find some supermodel. I told him all this, and he just laughed. He told me nobody else compares. I melt every time he says that.
“I know you don’t want to get my hopes up, sis,” Zack says, trailing his finger around and around his knee. “I get it, too. It’s like Jamie says. Sometimes, bad things happen. Sometimes, we can’t control it. That’s what he said, Lucy.”
I smile. “I believe you.”
From hints like these, I get the sense Dad never listened to Zack. He gaslit him and twisted his mind so that Zack always tries to convince people when talking to them. He’s desperate to be heard and seen as real like he matters.
“But, sis, what do you feel?”
My smile widens. We watched a romantic comedy last night, and Zack says it just like one of the characters. He’s been on his own for so long, with only Dad for company—okay, not alone, but worse than being alone. He has to learn any way he can. I admire my little brother.
“I feel like what I said in the hospital was true. We’re going to be there for you, and I know Jamie. He’s determined to keep his promise.”
Zack meets my eye with a dreamy smile. It’s difficult to think of how Jamie described the night they escaped, holding the knife, ready to do Dad’s bidding before he decided to cut Jamie loose. It’s hard to think of all the terrible things Dad did. To me. To him. To Jamie. To everyone.
However, Jamie handled that problem. I’ll probably never say this aloud, but I’m happy he did it. Not just relieved that he made it out okay. Not just glad he’s alive.
Happy he killed Dad. Does that make me sick? I don’t care.
If Jamie’s taught me anything, it’s that I can’t judge someone based on what the world thinks. The entire world, including me, thought he was a killer. However, it didn’t stop him from writing his books, honing his craft, and getting ready to support us when the time came.
“I think so, too,” Zack says.
“Where are we going?” I ask as Jamie drives through the suburbs, moving from the mid-tier houses to the bigger ones. He drives past them, stopping in a small, well-kept park, far more upscale than my area in the city.