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 hadn’t told her why I’d forbidden her from coming to my house.
I didn’t want to admit that I’d gotten up at three a.m. knowing it would take me that long to pack the car, thanks to the trembles and panic that kept attacking me at the very thought of leaving. I couldn’t pretend that I was okay, and I didn’t want her seeing me like that.
I’d only had the strength to get through it because X had messaged around five in the morning.
X: Are you running away?
Me: No, just trying to be normal and get back to routine.
X: And that includes packing your life into a car, why?
Me: I’m going to the market. To sell my flower concoctions.
X: Ah, in that case. I know what I’ll be doing today.
Before I could reply, he’d sent another one.
X: By the way, you’re doing amazing. I know it isn’t easy to fight your natural instinct to hide away, but you’re incredible and strong, and I’ll be watching you. You’re safe.
I’d repeated his words over and over, especially when the tears stung, and the urge to throw up in the camellia bush latched around my throat. I wished he’d been with me as I’d finally driven away, fighting debilitating jitters all the way to the market.
Dawn had cast the showgrounds where the market was held in pink and gold by the time I’d received his next message.
X: You got this. Fake it till you make it. You know I have your back if you’re a little unstable. You can talk to me about anything.
And then, I’d been too busy to think, let alone be afraid.
Little by little, customer by customer, the agoraphobia that’d slowly been restricting my life loosened its claws and let me breathe.
Smiling at Lily as she laughed with the woman, I tapped my screen to bring up the keyboard.
Me: Hello, Keeper of Secrets. Thanks for checking in on me. Are you here? Are you watching? You can come and say hello, if you’re brave enough.
I laughed under my breath as I added: I’m sure I have a cream for those boils you’re so self-conscious about.
His reply came quickly.
X: I’m rather attached to my pizza face. Thanks anyway. Is it condescending of me to say I’m proud of you?
Me: Not condescending. Rather sweet.
X: Is it stepping over a line if I tell you that the little pinafore you’re wearing is driving me mad?
Glancing down at my apron, I ran my fingers over the logo Nana and Pops had designed so many years ago. They’d used a Tree of Life emblem with sparkling soil and flower blooms. The pink frills around the collar and hem gave it a cottage housewife vibe.
Me: I’m beginning to think you have multiple fetishes where my clothes are concerned.
X: I think you mean I have a you fetish.
I gasped.
A woman giggled in the milling crowd while customers moseyed up and down the grass aisle, buying homemade jams, jewellery, sweets, and bric-à-brac. Scanning the bustle, I tried to spot a man who might be X. A few strolled past. One even caught my eye and smiled, but his short height was all wrong. I had no idea what hair colour X had or his facial features, but I did know he was fairly tall.
My cheek had rested perfectly on his chest while he could prop his chin on my head.
I sighed, remembering the overwhelming comfort I’d found in his embrace.
Someone caught my attention in the distance.
Every droplet of carefree happiness evaporated beneath the memory of pain and strangulation.
Alexander North stood with another man and a beautiful auburn-haired woman not far away. While his friend inspected a homemade chopping board, Alexander glared at his phone, and the woman watched both men with a bemused smile on her face.
My own phone pinged.
X: Sorry, did I step over the line again? Note to self: don’t use words like fetish or send photos of the woman you’re technically stalking even though it’s for all the right reasons.
Alexander’s friend let out a loud laugh and handed over some money for the chopping board. Both men with the woman vanished into the crowd again.
Rubbing the back of my scalp where Milton had ripped my hair as he threw me onto my back for looking at Alexander, I did my best to forget the pain. I ignored the throb in my hip from his kick. The bruised ribs. The bite he’d left on my collarbone.
I’d been having such a good day. I’d been free for such a short while.
But thanks to seeing my neighbour, all I wanted to do was bolt home, lock every door, and never look at Alexander again.
My phone chirped.
X: What is it? What happened? You don’t look so good.
Sighing heavily, I sat down on the large plastic box I’d used to transport my wares.