Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
I know deep down that if it were a consistent age then more than likely it would be eighteen.
I hang my head. What the fuck am I even thinking? This girl just lost her fiancé, and I’m on my damn phone trying to figure out how long it will be until I can fuck her without going to jail. Not to mention the simple fact that I’m attracted to an underage kid. I need to head upstairs to the damn psych department because clearly my head is fucked up.
I smile when I hear her threaten him with reporting his basement grow house. He shuts up almost immediately after that. This chick has ammunition she’s not afraid to use.
I was friends with several foster kids growing up. I didn’t form super close bonds with them because they move around a lot, but I’ve heard a few stories about just how bad some of these places can be. Before long, they know how to work the system. If a house isn’t where they want to be, or if the conditions are so bad they don’t want to stay, they just do shit to get them moved. They’ll commit crimes, destroy property, and even sometimes they’d hurt themselves. The families will file for an emergency removal, and they’d be shipped off to the next home, hoping it’s better than the last.
I know nothing about the girl on the other side of the wall, but I’m concerned. She wants to be left alone, her fiancé has died, and clearly she has no family. All of these lead me to believe that her unsuccessful suicide attempt was just that, unsuccessful. The only thing standing in the way of her ultimate goal today was me.
Grateful I was there is an understatement. The knowledge that if she wants to die, she’ll try again niggles in the back of my head. She has to find a reason to live. She needs to know there is always another path she can take when things get dismal and ugly. I only hope I can make her see the light at the end of the tunnel before the darkness takes her under for good.
The foster parents finally leave her room, sneering at me like I’m the Devil himself as they walk by.
“Deviant,” her coward of a foster dad says as he walks past. The grip he has on his wife’s arms looks painful, but that fucked up situation is the least of my worries.
I wait a few minutes longer before turning back into the room. I want to make sure that asshole doesn’t come back and try to upset her again. I’ll be damned if I let him back into her room tonight.
Satisfied that they’ve said their peace and heeded her threats, I darken the door of her room once again. I plaster my best smile on my face as I walk toward her bed. It’s not a hardship to smile when looking at her. I can see the anger in her eyes as she looks up at me. She’s even more adorable when she’s mad.
Sitting in the twin-sized hospital bed, she looks almost like a pixie. She’s small, yet seductive with her hair all around her shoulders. Her frame may be petite, but her body looks nothing like a child. She’s stacked, and it makes me think of dynamite. The way she spoke to her foster parents, I’m sure, is only a hint at how feisty she can get.
“Who the fuck are you?” she asks as I cross the room and stand at the end of her bed.
Yep, this girl is going to be a handful.
“Kid,” I answer.
“I’m not a fucking kid,” she spits, already riled up and defensive about her age.
I chuckle. This firecracker is going to be the death of me. “I go by Kid. It’s my road name.”
She looks at me as if contemplating the situation. “Okay, Kid. Thanks for that little tidbit of information. But who the fuck are you? Why are you here?”
I hold my hands out in offering and put a sexy smile on my face.
“I’m your knight in shining armor, baby. Well,” I say looking down at my cut. “Leather.”
She raises an eyebrow at me, clearly not impressed. I drop my hands and clear my throat. My confidence falters. That usually works on women. I’m not a complete asshole; I know some women aren’t attracted to me. I just figured they were older, married, or not interested in men. I never considered for a second a woman would be looking at me like this girl is. She seems… indifferent.
Evidently, my charm isn’t going to be the way to pull her from her deep, dark, depressed thoughts. The idea is unnerving because honestly, I had no plan B.
“What’s your name?” I counter.
She drops her chin to her chest and gives her head a small shake. I wait her out.