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)
You’re cut off starting this very second.
Slamming my phone down, I didn’t reply.
I forced myself to go back to making Nana’s special face cream, absolutely determined to go to the market this weekend and sell like usual. I’d let our From Soil to Soul customers down and the amount of internet orders that’d come in meant I had an entire suitcase of product to wrap and drop off at the post office.
My phone chimed again.
And then another little buzz.
Don’t you dare.
I kept ladling the wonderful-smelling mixture into the cut crystal bottles I bought in bulk from a local glass-blower Nana had become friends with a decade ago.
My cell vibrated one last time before falling silent.
As the sun set, I finished the batch of face cream, printed off our special labels listing all the natural ingredients and contact details, then carefully put them in the storage room off the downstairs laundry to cool and solidify.
Every part of me wanted to lunge for my phone, but I forced myself to cook a quick pan-seared fish and head outside to harvest a fresh summer salad. I even made a gooey lava cake in a mug like Pops used to enjoy.
Nightfall had well and truly blanketed Ember Drive by the time I’d punished myself enough, got my head back on straight, and believed I was sane again.
I can talk to a masked stranger without getting weird. I know I can.
My silly heart fluttered as I grabbed my phone and turned off the kitchen lights. Thanks to what Milton had done, I’d stopped going into the living room, but I was being brave tonight.
It was just a couch. Just a coffee table. Just a carpet.
He was locked up. I was here.
No one is going to hurt me.
Throwing myself on the couch, I pulled my legs up, draped a blanket over my lap, and dared to open X’s messages.
X: I know it shouldn’t, but it makes me happy to know you slept better because of me. And you can be mad at me for trespassing. I’m mad at myself for breaking my rules so soon into this. You have my word. I won’t do it again.
My teeth ground together with annoyance.
If I admitted I’d liked him trespassing, why was he adamant that he’d never do it again?
I paused, assessing the swelling feelings inside me.
I smiled.
It’d been so long since I’d felt anything but out of control and lost. The faintest tinge of frustration felt good. It gave me back a spark, a flame, and I scrolled eagerly through the rest of his messages.
X: I’m not saying I can help with the depression you mentioned, but I’ll try to give you back your happiness. Not sure how but…I’m always here to talk.
I scanned the next one.
X: If I were a doctor—which I’m not—I’d say you’re suffering from rising agoraphobia because you can’t trust open spaces, but you’re also claustrophobic because the house is closing in on you. Talking about what sets you off might help, but you should also probably see someone with expertise in these conditions.
Why did he sound exactly like a doctor even after professing he wasn’t one?
X: How about you start now? Talk to me as if every word you say gets deleted the second you type it. Give it a voice and then let it go.
Cradling my phone, I read and reread that last one.
The idea of whatever I said suddenly un-existing as soon as I said it was resoundingly enticing. Whoever X was, he was good at this. Good at giving me pathways out of the dark forest of my mind.
Me: It’s my turn to apologise for my late reply. I was busy making face cream for my business.
I sent it but immediately felt guilty.
Me: That’s a lie. I stayed busy because I didn’t want to message you back.
My phone hummed in my palm a second later.
X: Why didn’t you want to message me back?
Me: Because I sounded like a clingy girlfriend demanding to know you won’t judge or pity me. I don’t like how weak I sounded.
X: Would it help to know it’s physically impossible for me to pity you? I can’t because I’m in awe of you.
There went my heart again.
Me: What about judging me?
X: The only thing I’m judging is myself and how much I’m fucking this up.
My heart flutters switched into full skipping rope hops.
Me: What do you mean?
He took a few minutes as if gathering his thoughts.
X: I’m going to take our vow of honesty at face value, okay? I guess this is me asking you not to judge me now.
I shivered and cuddled deeper in my blanket.
Me: I won’t.
X: I think I made a mistake messaging you.
Every bubbly feeling crashed and burned.
Oh.
Tears pricked my eyes, revealing just how stupidly invested I was over a masked watcher who didn’t have to cover me in a blanket the night he kept me safe, but did. A faceless stranger who knew more about what happened than Lily, my best friend.