Total pages in book: 190
Estimated words: 185785 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 929(@200wpm)___ 743(@250wpm)___ 619(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 185785 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 929(@200wpm)___ 743(@250wpm)___ 619(@300wpm)
Just go? Figure it out later? I don’t know why I can’t just make myself do that. Go to my parents? Call up old friends and ask if I can sleep on their couch?
I’ve got a decent job; do I just give that up and go into hiding? Start over in a new city, maybe? Leave everything and everyone just to get away from him? I don’t have anyone but him because I allowed it.
I’ve thought about it. All of it. I just don’t have any solutions yet.
What if I go and he sends those pictures to my parents or hurts someone I love to get back at me?
Ray said he lost his bank card and kept making excuses for why he couldn’t go in and get a new one. Instead, he carries mine and gives me cash for the bus and groceries. It’s no accident. He wants me reliant on him.
I have no real friends anymore; Ray has seen to that. I’m no longer close with my family, either.
Today is the third anniversary of the night we met. He hasn’t mentioned it, so it’s obvious he doesn’t remember. It’s not like I’d expect a gift. I haven’t bought him one. Though, in the past I did.
In my mind, we’re no longer in a relationship. I’m just stuck with him in my apartment, in my bed, and in my bank account until I figure out how to pull the cord on an escape hatch I haven’t found yet.
***
It’s just after 7:30 when he comes in. The sound of his keys now leaves a familiar unpleasant feeling in my chest and my stomach.
I didn’t think I’d even see him tonight because there’s some sports game on that he wants to watch at a bar in our neighborhood and that would typically mean he’d get in after I’m asleep. Why is he early?
“Brought a buddy home, babe,” Ray calls out, “Dinner almost ready?”
I’m at the counter, making dinner for me. Only me. Because Ray wasn’t here when I started cooking and I didn’t expect him to be here. Not only that, but I also know he hates the dish I’m making and I’m making it because I figured he’d be out.
He steps up behind me and pulls me against his body, but I cringe before I realize there’s another set of eyes on me as I’m turned around by my shoulders. Ray plants a kiss on my mouth. He tries to slip in the tongue, even, and my head jerks back in shock. And that’s when I get a glimpse of who he brought with him, standing just inside the doorway, watching me cringe, looking at me with rapt attention.
He saw me recoil. I think Ray missed it; his friend didn’t.
“Killian Coulter, my fiancée, Violet.” Ray releases me and I look straight into the piercing green eyes of the tall, dark-haired, handsome Killian. And it’s like his eyes have seized mine.
To say I’m shocked – major understatement. Because not only have I seen Killian Coulter once before; I’ve heard about him a hundred times. Ray idolizes this guy.
“Ran into Kill and it was bullshit at the bar, so figured we’d come back for dinner, beers, and to watch the game on TV. We got enough dinner?”
That game probably costs $49.99 on pay-per-view. And it’ll be me that has to pay for it.
“Um, yeah,” I say, still locked by green eyes. And I jolt. Because… why? I don’t know.
“You sure?” Killian asks.
I swallow and force myself to nod. “Welcome. Yeah, definitely. Can I get you something to drink?”
He steps up to me as Ray moves toward the couch.
“Great to meet you finally.”
He hugs me and my lungs seize. I don’t get a chance to hug him back before he moves away.
“Beers, babe,” Ray requests and waves for Killian to follow him to the couch.
My apartment is small. When you walk in, there’s my bedroom and bathroom in a short hallway to the left and directly ahead you’re looking at the small kitchen and that opens up into the living/dining room combo, separated by a peninsula counter.
Despite the size, it’s in a great location with a gym and great neighbors.
Well…when I talked to my neighbors. I don’t do much of that these days. People who used to say hello or smile don’t bother. They probably hear Ray shouting, throwing things. They probably feel sorry for me. Not that I make eye contact either. Nobody really talks to either of us, except Mrs. Shear, the elderly lady on the main floor who lives on her own. I think she’s got early onset dementia. She used to tell us that Ray reminded her of her son, Danny, but Ray told me recently she started calling him Danny whenever she saw him.
I bring beers to Killian and Ray who are getting comfortable on my couch.