Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 71179 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71179 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
“I could too, Vannah, but it’s the middle of the night. Let’s eat our sandwiches, and then let’s try to get some sleep.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” She takes a plate and sits down at the small table in the kitchen. She opens her water and takes a drink.
I take a bite of my sandwich.
The meat is a peppery turkey breast. Pretty good, but certainly not gourmet fair. Hell of a lot better than the food in prison, for sure.
We finish our sandwiches quickly.
“You sure you should have eaten so quickly?” I ask.
“Yes, I’m fine. Trust me, that nausea and vomiting was because Miles was making me sick.” She rubs her stomach gently. “Literally sick.”
I caress her cheek. “God, Savannah. I’m so sorry about all of this.”
She looks up at me and her eyes light up. “Falcon, you came for me.”
I take my hand away from her and scowl. “But he had his hands on you.”
“He did, but his cock never got inside me. And that’s thanks to you.”
“I think that’s thanks to you and your throwing up.”
“Yeah, but he eventually would’ve found me. And he would’ve finished what he started.”
Just the thought of that makes my hands curl into fists.
She covers one of my fists with her hand. “Easy. It’s over. It didn’t happen.”
“And it never will,” I say, my jaw clenched.
I’m still not sure she believes me, but that’s okay. I know the truth.
Because if that degenerate ever comes near my woman again?
I will kill him with my bare hands.
8
SAVANNAH
I take our dishes and put them in the dishwasher.
“Do you want anything else?” Falcon asks. “There are some apples in the fridge.”
“No, I’m good.” A yawn splits my face. “Maybe we should just go to bed.” Then I look around. “I feel so naked without my purse and my phone. Miles has everything. He has my ID, for God’s sake.”
“But you have his. Maybe you can make some use out of it. His phone won’t do you any good, though. And even if you had yours, your regular phone wouldn’t work here anyway. Signals can’t get here, so we use satellite.”
I nod, yawning again.
“Let’s go to bed,” Falcon says.
“Okay.”
He doesn’t have to ask me twice. I’m exhausted. Now that my stomach is full, all I can think about is a soft bed and Falcon’s shoulder.
Hills and valleys…
The meadow with my mama. Our picnic together, mother-daughter style.
My room, my own bed, my stuffed dog that I affectionately call Puppy.
I look for a safe space, but I can’t find one.
Because of my brother—the only brother I have left since Vinnie left.
Michael.
My Mikey is dead.
Shot in his own home.
Michael, who played by the rules. Who stayed and did his duty to his family. Who married Miles McAllister’s cousin Elizabeth.
Sadness sweeps through me—sadness laced with anger.
Laced with regret.
Because I know what’s going to happen now.
They’re going to want me.
I push that to the back of my mind, because right now I need to mourn my brother.
There was a time when I was a little girl when I knew neither of my brothers would ever leave me.
Especially Vinnie. Big brother to both Michael and me. The perfect older brother—he protected us without fail whenever we needed him.
But then he left.
Never to be seen or heard from again, so I turned to Michael. Mikey, my rock. My big brother.
“I want to see him,” I said to my father.
“No, Savannah. Absolutely not.”
My father’s ice cold. His face is frozen. No expression at all. This demeanor… As if all feelings and emotion have left him.
His son is dead, for God’s sake.
His fucking son is gone, and he’s a damned ice man.
My mother is weeping.
As any mother would.
I always thought I wanted to have children. Ever since I was a little girl and played with dolls, mothering them—feeding them, diapering them, rocking them to sleep.
I wanted to have my own real live baby doll.
Now, as I watch my mother mourning her son, her baby doll, I rethink that.
It nearly killed her when Vincent left, but at least we know he’s alive. Or we can at least imagine that he is.
But Michael?
Michael is undeniably gone. His heart no longer beats. He’s dead.
The D word.
No mother should ever have to refer to her child with that word.
I won’t have children.
I won’t bring them into this world.
Then it occurs to me.
If they force me into marriage? I may not have a damned choice.
“I want to see him,” I say again.
“Savannah, I said no.” My father’s voice is still icy.
“You should at least let Mama see him.”
“I will not. Why would I want to put her through that?”
“Because maybe she won’t believe you. Maybe she won’t believe you unless she sees him with her own eyes.”
My father’s hand comes out then, and he strikes me across my cheek.
I drop my jaw, my hand going to my stinging cheek. I can feel it turning red now.