Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 78732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
I don't want to be the villain in her story, and keeping my mouth shut may be the only way to prevent it.
When she excuses herself from the kitchen, it takes every ounce of reasoning I still have to keep from following her out.
"What the fuck did you do?"
I turn toward Rooster's accusation.
"Nothing," I lie.
At this point, I'm just glad I didn't tell her I love her.
"She was fine yesterday," he says, a hint of protectiveness in his tone that strikes me the wrong way.
I growl at him, feeling like a snarling dog whose territory is being encroached on. I swear, if he pushes the issue, I might take all my anger and sadness at the way she's acting out on him, and where would that leave me? No doubt I'd be released from Cerberus's organization, and, honestly, I'm already going to lose Kaylee. I can't lose that too.
"You better fucking fix it," he snaps before leaving the kitchen in a huff.
If I knew a way to make all of this right, then I'd jump on it in a heartbeat. There's no sense in clinging to pride when it doesn't have the ability to keep you whole when the dust settles.
Pride is such a foolish notion. It has started wars and led to so much death and destruction. I want no part of it, but I'm also not the one to take a step forward and volunteer to get trampled on when I can easily see the stampede heading my way.
I do my best to convince the rest of my mind and body that the way I feel for her isn't love. Love for me isn't possible. It's simply my body's way of urging me not to lose her because there's so much tension between us. This is lust. It's a hundred percent sexual. Since I haven't had her, my psyche is trying to convince me that losing her would be the worst thing in the world, because every inch of me wants inside of her, wants to consume her, experience the clench of her body.
It's physical. That's it.
I can handle denying myself physically. I've done it many times. I just have to power through.
If she didn't like what I had to say last night, then it's not my place to argue with her about it or try and manipulate her into changing her mind. She's had enough of that in her life, and I refuse to contribute to it.
She's sitting on the bed, gnawing on one of her cuticles, when I make it to the room, and the bag I took from her house is sitting beside her, bulging with her belongings.
"You're packed?" The words are quite possibly the stupidest thing I could say. Obviously, she's fucking packed.
"You bought most of the clothes," she says, her eyes refusing to meet mine. "I can leave them if you want me to."
"What use do I have for them?" I mutter, feeling like the giant asshole I told myself I wouldn't be.
She has a right to her feelings, and if they don't align with mine, there's nothing I can do about that.
"So, you're leaving?"
Even after I begged you to stay?
"I think it's best," she says as she stands, making my heart pound and my head race with ways to keep her here.
"Your car was impounded at the warehouse, and there weren't keys with it," I say. "I can get you keys to a different vehicle that you can use until you can get your car back."
"I have an Uber on the way," she says, her fake little smile not even directed at me.
She can't seem to get away from me quick enough, and it threatens to shatter me into a million pieces right here in front of her, but I pull in a deep breath. I feel vulnerable, and that's the last thing I want her to witness.
"The annulment—"
Is she trying to kill me right now?
"That's not something we need to think about right now," I rush out.
"I think the quicker we get it done the better," she says as she gathers the strap of her bag. "So we can get our lives back to normal."
"I'll have Rooster draw up the proper paperwork," I tell her when all I want to do is beg her to look me in the eyes and tell me she doesn't feel anything for me.
I swallow against the massive lump that has wedged itself into my throat.
I open my mouth to tell her it isn't safe, that I don't trust Kincaid and there's still danger for her, but the truth is, there's always danger.
Saying she should be okay is ridiculous. Okay is subjective. It's possible she can go do something stupid again like she did before, only I wouldn't be there to help her.
My pulse strengthens, my muscles flooding with adrenaline.