Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 72401 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72401 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
It looked awful, but at least it was clean.
Something that I’d had to work my ass off to accomplish when I’d first moved in.
“Probably because your sister’s hate my guts. Molly more than most. I was just thankful that Mikayla brought it. She’s too critical about her food to mess it up with poison,” I said as I reached for a bowl.
Cleo’s big body warmed my back as he effortlessly lifted his arm and brought down two bowls.
A normal sized one for me, and what amounted to a mixing bowl for him.
“They’re not that bad,” he admonished as he made himself at home, scooping up soup for the both of us, and then setting them on the table.
I followed behind him dutifully as I grabbed spoons, and sat down at the table.
“Whatever you say, Cleo-Patrick,” I said as I took my first spoonful of soup.
The liquid hit my tongue, bursting with flavor. However, when it hit my throat, it felt like shards of glass on the way down.
“Owww,” I whined.
He looked at me sympathetically. “You can take some more ibuprofen.”
I nodded, getting up to do just that.
I washed the pills down with a glass of milk, and sat down at the table again, studiously ignoring his probing gaze.
“I have to go to work in the morning. You’ll be okay?” He asked.
I looked up and shrugged. “Yeah.”
Picking his phone up off the table, he sent a quick text before sliding it back to the middle of the table and resuming eating his massive helping of soup.
“Were you hungry?” I asked with raised eyebrows.
“You have no food,” he said simply.
I snorted.
I didn’t. I hadn’t been to the store in a week. I’d taken my last salad, and then left it to rot in Cleo’s saddlebags.
“I haven’t been able to get to the store this week. No time,” I said by way of apology, before I started forcing myself to eat.
I stuck mainly to the broth, occasionally slurping down a noodle or two.
I kept my face down so he wouldn’t see the lie that had lit up my face. Cleo was a master at reading me, and I didn’t want him to ask questions and figure out my real reasons.
Mainly the one where he found out that I didn’t have the money to buy any food this week.
I picked up dinner with Nonnie during the week, when I got home it was a tie between a cheese sandwich and cereal most days.
“You have shitty cereal, too. I ate all that around four. I’ll go get you some more tomorrow,” he said just before upending the bowl and drinking the last dregs of his soup down.
My eyes started drooping again, but I didn’t want to go to sleep just yet.
I wanted to spend just a few more minutes in this lie.
I wanted to feel like I did a year ago.
Happy and content.
“Watch a movie with me?” I asked.
He stood and took our bowls to the sink. “Go get it on. I’ll grab your blanket off the bed.”
I complied with his instructions, and went to the couch and fired up my DVR.
I inserted the first Die Hard DVD, and sat in the very middle, giving him no other choice but to sit directly beside me.
Which he did thirty seconds later, wrapping the blanket around us both.
I curled around him, pushing until he was leaned back with his body length wise across the couch, and my body alongside his.
We’d been in this position many, many times.
So many times, in fact, that it felt like almost second nature.
I sighed as the movie started playing, and matched my breathing with Cleo’s.
Perfection.
That’s what it was.
In his arms, nothing in the world mattered.
The consequences were gone.
Our distance was gone.
What was left was just us. Cleo and Rue.
Chapter 6
It’s hard to be understanding when you’re surrounded by dumb motherfuckers.
-Tru’s secret thoughts
Rue
“Mmph-hello?” I answered the phone sitting next to my face.
“Hi, this is Dortea Annapolis.” The woman paused. “My secretary called you and set up an appointment time for this morning, however, you’re not here yet, and I wanted to double check to make sure we were supposed to meet.”
My eyes snapped open, and I groaned when I saw the clock. 10:33.
“Shit, I mean, shoot. I’m sorry. I’m sick. But I can still come if you need me to. I just need a couple of minutes to get dressed and get over there,” I croaked.
The woman made apologetic noises. “I’m sorry to hear that, dear. But the trial takes place next week, and I need your statement confirmed. We already have the arresting officer on the case here waiting. Basically, as long as you can get here, I don’t really care what illness you have .... as long as it’s not deadly.”
I groaned and sat up. “Okay, I’ll be there in,” I said glancing at my clock. “Fifteen minutes. I just have to find some pants.”
She chuckled, and we hung up.
I forwent my jeans for a nice pair of sweats, pulled on a hooded sweatshirt I’d stolen from Cleo, and went to the bathroom to brush my teeth.
My hair looked horrible, however there was nothing I could do with it besides taking a shower, so it was staying how it was.
I shuffled out of my bedroom and into the living room only to find a man sitting on my couch.
“What the fuck?” I asked him.
It was the same man who’d dropped me off from work a few days ago. The older one with the sexy salt and pepper hair. Oh, and that beard!
He was sitting on my couch with his feet propped up on the coffee table, watching bowling of all things.
“You look like shit,” he said eloquently.
“Thanks. Are you here to be my babysitter?” I asked.
He nodded and went back to the TV. “Everyone else was working. Lucky me. However, it beats the hell out of what I was going to do.”
I didn’t bother asking him what it was he was ‘going to do.’ He didn’t seem the type to be expounding on his answers.