Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 79749 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79749 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Chapter 18
Aspen
The food he brought in has gone untouched, and it has nothing to do with the fact that he brought me something or I'm purposely refusing any kindness he offers.
How can I eat when I have no clue when the last time Eli ate was? How can I rest when I don't know if he's comfortable or safe enough to sleep?
As hateful as it sounds, I would give my own life and the life of every other person walking this earth to keep my son safe, to know that he's happy and loved. It's a sinister thought, to know that if I had to choose between the life of my child versus the life of someone else's, I'd pick my son every single time. Maybe that's the bad blood of my father swimming in my veins, or maybe I'm just a woman who has been through enough that I can be honest with myself. Maybe most people would struggle with that choice, but for me it's a no-brainer.
The catch is that I'm not being offered a choice. I'm being asked to sit and wait, to hope and pray that he is found safe.
It kills me to stay in this room, and I know I may not have to. I have been instructed to stay in here, but I haven't been told I couldn't leave. I know not to confuse Jericho with Damien. The two are very different men, but I also can't make the mistake of thinking that Jericho is the Luke I loved from years ago. He literally told me he wasn't, but I still don't know if that was a warning not to trust him at all.
As if my thoughts have called to him, the doorknob turns, garnering all my attention as it did moments ago, but I still don't lift my head.
Silence fills the room, the doorway staying empty, and this is what makes me lift my head. The door is ajar, but no one stands there, urging me to come out. It is an offering of sorts though, unspoken permission telling me I'm not a captive in this room.
I don't instantly move even though the peace offering is something that makes my heart beat quickly in my chest.
A few minutes pass, each one bringing with it the urgency to leave the room and, eventually, I climb off the bed and go to the slightly open door. I don't know what I expect to find when I poke my head through the opening but him sitting on the sofa, staring at the muted television, isn't it.
I look around the cabin, but just like he promised earlier, it's only the two of us here. I don't know how I should feel about that. He probably hates that he's stuck here with me and would much rather be anywhere else, but I can't negate the fact that he came looking for me after reading the emails. Clearly, he's a fixer, and he just didn't fully bargain for the mess I've made of my life when he decided to intervene.
"Where's Samuel?" I ask as I step out of the bedroom.
His eyes dart to the empty chair the bodyguard once occupied before looking back to the television. "He left with Hemlock."
"What a name," I say, inching closer to the sofa but battling the idea of sitting so close to him.
It was clear in the room earlier that he isn't very impressed with me these days, and although he opened the bedroom door, I can't take it as an open invitation to do whatever I want around here.
"Just part of who we are."
"Feds?" I ask as I sit on the couch, making sure I'm as far away from him as the furniture will allow.
"Marines."
My eyebrows furrow of their own volition as I stare at the side of his face. "You were in the military? You never told me that."
"I didn't tell you a lot of things. Couldn't have you running to your father, now could I?"
"I'm sure that you really think I might've done something like that, but I wouldn't have," I argue.
He turns his head, eyes locked on me before he speaks. "You're telling me from day one, that if you discovered who I really was, you wouldn't have run to dear old dad?"
I shake my head, my answer immediate. "The first day you looked at me, it was like I was being seen for the first time in my life."
"I was the only one willing to look at something I wasn't allowed to touch."
"I don't mean in that way," I argue. "I didn't feel like you saw me as another pawn in a game I wasn't allowed to play, but look what happened. You were the most dangerous one of them all, weren't you?"
Instead of answering, he turns his eyes back to the television screen, but I can tell by the way his gaze is locked in place that he isn't reading the subtitles racing along the bottom.