Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 39424 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 197(@200wpm)___ 158(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39424 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 197(@200wpm)___ 158(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
He reaches for her hand, and I want to pulverize him. I could do it. He looks like a man that has never gotten his hands dirty, and I know I could take him. I could press a finger to one pressure point in his neck and end him. It would be over in a second. It scares me how badly I want that right now.
What’s worse is that Chloe doesn’t pull away. She sits there and lets the man in the khaki pants, button-down shirt, and loafers hold her hand.
I shouldn’t have come to Whiskey Run. I should have stayed far away. I thought war was hard. It’s nothing compared to seeing Chloe with another man.
CHAPTER 3
CHLOE
I’m a shitty date.
That’s all there is to it. Here I sit, listening to Ronnie talk about his future aspirations and everything he’s dreaming of for the future—while he’s holding my hand—and all I can think about is the broody man across the room.
I try to stay focused on Ronnie. I really do. But the longer I sit here with my hand in Ronnie’s, the more uncomfortable I get. I was wrong to accept his date.
I want to pull away, but I’m afraid if I do, I’m going to cause a scene. It’s already going to be all over town that I was seen holding his hand. Shit, I did not think this through.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Elias making a move.
I chance a glance at him and try to read his expression. Is that hurt displayed on his face? Did I do that? I don’t know why I care, and I shouldn’t give it another thought, but as I see him get up from the booth, I know I can’t just let him walk away again.
He’s going to leave via the back door. That’s his thing, and before I can talk myself out of it, I pull my hand from Ronnie’s. “Excuse me, Ronnie. I’m going to be right back.”
He nods his head, and I get up without a backwards glance.
I walk down the hallway, pass the bathrooms, and practically bust out of the back doors. As I stumble into the alley, I see Elias walking away with his shoulders pulled tight and his head down low. “Elias.”
He stops, but he doesn’t turn around.
I take a few more steps toward him, but I don’t press my luck by getting too close. He reminds me of an animal that’s been caged. “Are you ever going to talk to me?”
I can only see the back of him, but it looks as if he’s visibly shaking. “Elias,” I say again but this time softer.
He doesn’t answer me, and he doesn’t turn around, either.
I’m at a loss as to what to do. I’d do anything to have his eyes on me. Hell, I’d give anything if he’d just talk to me. I start rambling, hoping that he doesn’t walk away. “I see you, ya know. You show up everywhere and you watch me, but you never say anything to me. Just talk to me, Elias. You obviously have something you need to get off your chest. Say what you have to say.”
I pause, but he does nothing. He doesn’t move an inch. I take one step toward him, and I see his back tense up more than it already was, so I stop midstride. “I’m trying to understand. Make me understand.”
Still nothing. I’m pleading with him at this point, and I should hate the way I’m begging him, but I’m desperate. “That night meant something to me, Elias. Maybe I’m a fool, but this isn’t right. You owe me answers…. Five years you were gone. I didn’t know-—” I suck in a ragged breath filled with emotion and start again. “I didn’t know if you were dead or alive. Please. I have so many questions. Where have you been for the last five years? Why didn’t you call me? Why didn’t you write to me? Anything?”
I’m standing here as my heart feels as if it’s breaking in two all over again, and he’s completely unaffected. “Elias. If you’re not going to talk to me, then why are you following me? Did I do something? Are you trying to hurt me?”
He grunts, but I don’t get any kind of answer from him. His head drops between his shoulders.
“Talk to me, Elias.”
With my hands fisted at my sides, I stand perfectly still and quiet as a mouse, waiting on him to say something. Fuck, anything at this point would be better than me begging him to talk to me. But he says nothing.
I don’t even try to hold back the sobs. It’s fueled by years of wondering if he was dead or not. “You know the only reason I knew you were alive was because I asked Cassie and she asked her husband Baker. Remember them, you met Cassie the night we met. Anyway, he said you were fine and on one of your many missions. I went from wondering if you were dead to figuring out that you just didn’t want ME!” I scream the last part, really feeling the emotion behind the words and even repeat them. “You didn’t want me.”