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)
Our mother had pulled me aside and explained that Jolie needed me to offer words of comfort, not hack up dear ole’ Harry the Hamster.
Ever since that incident, I’d done my utmost to avoid any kind of healing that involved talking, crying, and sympathy because I wasn’t wired that way. My idea of helping was to do something about it, not just sit around and do nothing. Even though doing nothing was exactly what most people with trauma needed.
Silence in which to heal.
Quiet in which to hide.
Therefore, Sailor definitely didn’t need me going over there and making things worse.
Tossing my entire drink down my throat, I stalked away from the window before I could make a terrible decision and scale the fence.
She’s not my responsibility.
I kept repeating that as I took the stairs two at a time and threw myself face first into bed.
* 7 *
Sailor
An Awful Mess
THREE DAYS PASSED BEFORE I FINALLY HAD the courage to write Lily a note.
A note that said thank you for everything, but hovering over me and watching me like a mother hen was doing the opposite of what she hoped.
I appreciated her sleeping here, but it wasn’t helping me move on—she was just giving me a crutch to avoid having to face what’d happened. When she went to work, the walls closed in. When she came back, I felt stifled.
I didn’t know what I needed to get over Milton’s attempted murder, but whatever it was…I need to do it on my own.
Reading the note, Lily clenched her teeth before nodding with understanding. We stood in the kitchen where I’d made her a fresh salad full of herbs and delicious things from the garden to take to work with her.
Friday had come around so fast, and despite my hope that I’d be healed and have my voice back to go to the market tomorrow, I’d already emailed the organiser and apologised that I wouldn’t be at the usual spot.
I also didn’t want to admit that the thought of leaving this house sent a clawing, crawling sensation through me. Which didn’t make sense as Milton had hurt me here. In this very kitchen. He’d throttled me five metres away in the living room, yet it was outside that suddenly seemed monstrous.
The big, bad world held so many more men like Milton, and I was far too stupid to know which ones to trust and which ones to run far away from.
“Are you sure?” Lily asked. “I don’t like the thought of you being here alone.”
Taking the note back, I scribbled as quickly as I could, hoping she could read my loopy, messy handwriting. I hope you’re not offended, Lil, but…you can’t live here forever, and I can’t move on until I face it. So yes, I’m sure.
She scowled as she read upside down. Her power suit of choice today was a thin silver pinstripe with a white blouse and pearl drop earrings. With smoky eyes and soft pink lips, she looked gorgeous.
Not for the first time, I worried about the male sex.
How had none of them swept her off her feet yet?
Not that they hadn’t tried.
She dated often and had numerous apps looking for love.
Unfortunately for her, she was successful in her own right, had a fancy car, saved every penny of her commission to buy some land to do her own development, and most likely terrified all the boys away with her ten-year and twenty-year life plan.
Compared to her, I was going nowhere.
I truly don’t know what she sees in me.
“I get it. I do.” She fussed with her sleek ponytail. “I just don’t like it. How certain are we that he isn’t going to come back and try to finish the job?”
Knowing better than to try to speak—thanks to my throat that only seemed to get worse instead of better—I headed to the knife block and yanked out the carving blade. I winked and slashed it through the air.
She smirked. “Be an awful mess if you decide to give him a few holes.”
I shrugged and gave a thumbs up.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. It would be totally worth it.” She smiled a little sadly. Her gaze slipped over me, no doubt taking in my white summer dress that skimmed the tops of my feet. It didn’t have sleeves, so the bruises on my arms couldn’t be hidden, but at least the huge purple splodges on my legs and torso were covered.
“Okay, I know you’re far stronger than you look, and I respect that. Just…” She drew up her shoulders and snatched the salad bag and her satchel. “You’ll text me throughout the day and keep me informed of how you’re doing? And you promise to call me anytime—day or night—if you need me to come back. Promise?”
I nodded. Placing the knife back in the block, I went to her and squished her in a hug. My bruises tried to complain, but I shushed them. I tried to whisper but it came out like a frog’s croak. “I promise.”