Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 132321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
“So, you came over to give me one last lesson before you hit the road?” I try to keep my tone light, but fear that we’re done drags my voice down.
“Not at all.” He rests his hand over mine, stopping my restless movements. “I’ll be back. I’m not planning to stay and party. Just paying my respects and coming home as soon as my prez gives me the all-clear. Dex will want to get home to see his girl, too, so I’ll probably end up riding back with him.”
My breath catches. Does he realize what he just said? Dex will want to see his girl too. Does that mean Jigsaw considers me his girl that he’d want to hurry home to see?
I swallow hard, the question dancing on the tip of my tongue. No, do not ask him that. Not after the way I seemed to spook him last time.
Instead, I snuggle closer. “I’ll miss you.” The words slip out before I can stop them.
The hand over mine travels up my arm, his touch firm and reassuring. “I’ll miss you too,” he rasps, like he’s admitting something he isn’t ready to say.
Sleep tugs at the edges of my consciousness again, even though my mind’s racing with my plans for the next few weeks. It feels more urgent to make my move now.
“I’ll be back before you know it,” he whispers, breaking the silence.
“We’ll continue our lessons, right?” I ask, hating the pathetic hopefulness in my voice.
His body stills and he’s silent for a beat too long. “Yeah,” he answers slowly, his tone now smooth and casual. “We’ll pick up where we left off.”
“Was this lesson two-b? Or lesson three?”
He lets out a rough laugh. “I don’t fucking know.”
Doubt coils around my heart. I should’ve kept that question to myself. He leans over and presses a quick kiss to my forehead, lingering for a moment like he’s inhaling me. “Get some sleep.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Jigsaw
Two glowing green eyes greet me the next morning. Staring down at me from the top of the headboard.
“How’d you get in here?” I whisper to Gretel.
“Mrrraor.” She leaps onto my chest.
“You’re graceful but not light.” I scoop her into my arms and sit up. Her body vibrates and she butts my chin with her head, purring like the engine of a Honda Rebel.
I glance over at Margot. Sound asleep.
“Don’t wake her,” I whisper to Gretel.
“Mrrrp.” She purrs even louder and adds a sharp chittering noise.
Still holding the cat, I slide out of bed and walk to the door. It’s open just enough for Gretel to slip through. I know Margot closed it last night.
“Did you do that?” I ask the cat. Apparently, I’m a person who talks to cats now.
Gretel tilts her head and purrs louder. If a cat can look smug, it’s this one.
“You’d be terrifying if you had thumbs.” I tuck her under one arm and step out of the bedroom, quietly closing the door so Gretel doesn’t return to wake Margot.
I set the cat on the floor outside the bedroom, and she streaks down the hallway to the bathroom. “That’s where I’m headed, you little demon.”
She’s perched on the sink when I get there.
“I’m not a fan of having an audience.” I pick her up and set her outside the door, then close it in her face.
“Mrrraor.” Scratch. Scratch.
Christ, I haven’t felt this much pressure to pee as fast as possible since I was a kid at summer camp.
Mid-stream, the door clicks open. Gretel leaps onto the edge of the counter and stares at me.
I side-eye her. “You’re very rude.”
When I’m finished, I turn the tap on to wash my hands, but Gretel sticks her face under the stream instead.
“Is that what you wanted? You’re thirsty?”
She continues slurping at the water. After a few seconds, I nudge her out of the way and wash my hands. She flicks her paw through the water, batting droplets at me.
“I thought cats didn’t like water?” I shut off the tap and pick her up off the sink, tucking her under one arm again. She doesn’t seem to mind being carried around like a sack of apples.
As we approach the room next to Margot’s bedroom, Gretel wriggles and I set her down. The door’s ajar and she streaks through the narrow opening. I step inside. It’s shadowy, so I search for a switch and find a complicated panel near the door.
Bright, white light floods the room. The walls and ceiling are a soothing, dark charcoal gray—almost black with white trim. A gray built-in unit lines one wall. The front seems to have one large door with a handle at the bottom. On each side there are tall shelves with glass doors. The bottom has several rows of drawers. I step closer to the shelves. DVDs. Ah, an entertainment center. She does have a television after all. I touch the handle of the center door and pull. It slowly and silently slides upward, kind of like a garage door. A large, flat-screen television fills most of the space. Underneath, different electronic equipment.