Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 164838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 824(@200wpm)___ 659(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 824(@200wpm)___ 659(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
I kept scrolling.
“Sure, sounds—” I choked as my eyes locked on a name.
A name that shouldn’t be so recent in my inbox.
Lori.
What the fuck?
Colin’s voice echoed as he spoke, but I couldn’t understand him. I couldn’t focus on a single thing apart from tapping on the message.
Lori: Turns out you’re not just a stalker but a liar too. How do you know I’m up right now if you aren’t watching me? Tell me, X, do you still spy on me all while forbidding me to see you again? Because that’s not fair. I might’ve been okay with you watching me on a mutual basis, but if you think I’m going to put up with this being one-sided, think again.
“Oh, fuck, what did I do?”
“What?” Colin asked. “What did you do?”
“I fucked up, that’s what.”
“How?”
“I messaged her as X last night in my half-comatose state. I thought I’d messaged her as Zander. I completely blanked I have two goddamn phones.”
“You are definitely not cut out for this spy shit, Superman.”
My heart plummeted as I read Sailor’s second message, sent at three thirty a.m.
Lori: I’ll give you twelve hours to tell me where you put your cameras so I can rip them out. If you don’t…I’m going to the police. And this time, I’ll give them my phone, and they can deal with you.
“Fuck, I have to go.”
“What do you mean go? I’m coming to get you, remember?”
“No, I mean. I can’t come to the lake. I have to…. Shit, something super fucking important just came up.”
“Super fucking important, huh? Does this important task begin with an S and end with an R?”
Launching out of bed, I dashed to my window and looked into Sailor’s back garden.
I froze.
There she was, lugging a ladder twice the size of her from the back gate to the corner of her house where weeds grew out of the veranda gutters.
She didn’t mean to clean them herself, did she?
Didn’t she know how many accidents I saw in the ER, thanks to idiots and ladders?
Fuck.
Hanging up on Colin, I tapped Sailor’s number and called her.
I paced while the ring tone echoed in my ear and watched her marching toward her house with a life-destroying ladder.
She never answered.
* 43 *
Sailor
All Boys Suck, Especially the Masked Ones
SHOVING THE LADDER AGAINST THE side of the house, I tried to remember what Jim had instructed. I’d gone round this morning with another peach cobbler, exchanging sugar for tools.
What had he said?
Lock the legs, hoist the middle, brace the joints?
The clunky wooden thing weighed a freaking tonne. My arms already shook before I’d climbed one rung.
That could partly be thanks to the struggle of carrying it over here but also mostly thanks to X.
How dare he message me last night?
How dare he spy on me, contact me, and then ghost me when I’d replied?
He’d cut contact for almost two weeks and then out of the blue, I get a message that he’s watching me and we can chat. What sort of game was he playing? In what world did he think that was acceptable?
My phone pinged in my back pocket of my jean shorts.
I’d heard it ringing while carrying the ladder over the lawn, but had no intention of answering it. I didn’t want to run the risk. I’d already answered one call that rattled me this morning; I wasn’t ready for another one. I flinched despite myself, recalling the case officer handling Milton’s incarceration telling me a court date had been set a few months from now.
I would have to testify.
That chat had almost, almost sent me spiralling backward.
I’d hovered my fingers over my phone, desperate to message X even though I was furious with him. He’d opened communication between us again, and the temptation to share the scratchy, scared feeling inside at seeing Milton again almost overwhelmed me.
But he hadn’t messaged me back even after I’d threatened him.
He’d sent me nothing, and I refused to put my hurt out there only for it to hang in neverland.
Curling up the sleeves of my paint-splattered shirt, I sagged in the blistering hot morning. Ever since the call about Milton, I’d stayed busy. I’d baked cakes for Jim and Zander. I’d played with Peng, added a final coat of paint to my skirting boards in the living room, and now decided to attack the gutters where arrogant dandelions grew.
Autumn was coming, which meant bad weather and rain, and no way did I want my newly decorated house to leak.
I marched back inside and grabbed a pair of rubber gloves and a few trash bags. Peng came trotting from where he’d been cooling himself on an ice mat I’d bought him. I’d learned he didn’t like the heat, and after freezing the mat overnight, it stayed nice and cool for most of the day, giving him a reprieve.