Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
But I made a big deal of telling Colt I’d be fine, that he didn’t have to pick me up after my session. Sometimes it’s better for me to walk so I can process what I talked about with Dr. Miller before getting home. I need to be alone with my thoughts for a little while.
I know she’s right about a lot of things. I can tell myself all I want, that she doesn’t know the full story, but that doesn’t change anything. There are all kinds of reasons I can give for devoting so much of my energy to Colt and Nix and everything surrounding them, but I need to figure out how I feel about everything instead of worrying so much about the way Colt feels, or about how isolated Nix must feel. I didn’t set any of this in motion—none of it is my fault. So why am I constantly biting my tongue to keep from begging Colt to forgive Nix? Why do I keep hoping Nix will finally reach out and the two of them can settle the questions into accusations?
Why do I keep wishing so hard for Nix to come back when really all he’s ever done is hurt me? It’s got to be unhealthy, sacrificing myself like that, no matter how much I love Colt. Maybe that’s something I can talk to Dr. Miller about during our next session. I just have to find a way to explain it that won’t make her ask a bunch of questions I can’t answer. This is all so messed up. It’s enough to make me wonder if I’ll ever work my way through the trauma James inflicted on me. How am I ever supposed to get past it when Nix still seems stuck in the past? At least Colt has moved on—a little, anyway. The cruelty is gone. He wants to make it up to me, all those terrible things. All Nix wants to do is hurt me the way he did before.
Maybe it would be better if he did stay away, even though I know how it hurts Colt. He might not want to admit it out loud, but I know it does. The doctor is right. I need to stop worrying so much about them and think a little more about me, about what would be best for me.
“I knew you were a fucking head case.”
The nasty laughter that follows that charming observation makes my skin crawl. Why? Why can’t Deborah leave me alone?
She’s leaning against the car parked up ahead, her arms folded, a nasty grin stretching her mouth. She doesn’t know it, but she has picked the wrong day. I have too much on my mind to worry about treading carefully around her when all she seems to care about is following me around town.
“Deborah, you really need to get a life,” I mutter, scoffing, determined to keep walking without moving aside. She wants me to be afraid. She wants me shaken up. I’ll be damned if I give her the satisfaction.
“Did you tell your shrink all about the vandalism you’ve been up to lately?” she asks with a nasty laugh.
“You’re deluded, too.” I’m ready to keep walking, to leave her behind me, but she’s got other ideas. Pushing away from the car, she steps in front of me, feet planted at shoulder width. For one wild second, I can see myself shoving her hard, knocking her on her ass. She wouldn’t expect it, meaning I could probably make it happen—catching her off guard, having the pleasure of laughing at her surprise.
Then again, all I need is for her to accuse me of assault, which she would definitely do. As it is, she’s trying to accuse me of vandalism when I don’t have the first clue what she’s talking about. Just another thing she’s made up, I guess. An excuse to hate me.
“Deluded? No, honey,” she whispers, her lip curling, eyes narrowing. “You’re deluded for thinking you could slash my tires outside the movies, and I wouldn’t know it was you.”
Slashing her tires? “I never did that.”
“Yeah, right,” she snaps. “I guess it was a coincidence.”
“Or maybe you pissed off the wrong person,” I suggest with a shrug. “I can’t be the only one.” Was it Nix? Was he following me around even then? Would he take a risk like that?
“Listen, bitch.” Baring her teeth, she snarls, “I’m sick of you strutting around like your shit doesn’t stink, acting like a goddamn queen bee when we both know you’re not. We both know how worthless you are. You’re trash. Pretend all you want, but that’s all you’ll ever be.”
Pausing, she adds, “You’re a liar, too, and probably a murderer.”
“Wow,” I muse. “I must be pretty busy. Maybe you better get out of my way—I have all kinds of murders and other crimes to plan. You’re wasting my time.”