Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 94860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
“Not anymore. Not since I can’t afford the retainer.”
Fuck. I take a deep breath and then exhale loudly. Looking back at the notice, I say, “Okay, so four days from Monday is Friday. You must vacate the premises by Friday evening. If you don’t, they can lock the doors on you and sell your belongings for payment or throw it out on the street.”
“What? No. That can’t be right.” She snaps the notice from my hands and starts reading it again. “I thought it meant I had to move out.”
“It does, but I’ve never heard of someone being given such short notice. Did you receive any others? Say forty-five days or a month ago? Or even ten days ago?”
She’s shaking her head. When she looks up at me, she says, “Oh, no.”
“What?”
Flipping the paper around, she taps it. “Look at the address for billing.”
My gaze rolls down until I see it. “Beverly Hills.”
“My dad.”
“Your dad got the other notices but didn’t tell you.” We didn’t know he could treat her any worse, but he succeeded. As soon as I see tears of that realization welling in her eyes, I pull her to me, wrapping her frame in my arms.
The paper falls to the floor as she takes another hit from her dad’s disregard for his own daughter’s welfare. Her arms come around me, and I feel the slight shake of her shoulders as her emotions get the best of her.
Rage wants to fuel my reaction, but that won’t help her. I kiss her head instead, and through gritted teeth, I growl, “Fuck him.”
She doesn’t say anything, but I feel her tears against my skin. Leaning back, I grasp her face in my hands, waiting for her eyes to reach mine. “You’re moving in with me.”
13
Marlow
The rays of dawn sneak in through the cracks in the curtains, stirring me awake.
The eviction notice.
The realization that my dad has managed to screw me over once again.
The fries that Jackson so kindly let me eat all of.
Everything comes back in a rush that has me conflicted to what I should be feeling. I don’t remember the last time I was this happy, and that’s because of Jackson. But then the reality of my situation returns and dumps water all over everything.
My last memory had me safe in Jackson’s arms when he finally forced me back to bed to rest, but I’m not prepared for what this day has in store for me and can’t stave off the tears any longer. But an empty space in bed and an abandoned pillow in the light of the new day feels monumentally worse.
While rubbing my eyes, I can clearly acknowledge that I’ve messed my priorities up. A lot like my life.
I’m not sure where Jackson went or even when he left. I don’t think it could’ve been long, and giving him the benefit of the doubt, I bet he just wanted me to get more rest. It’s not something I would have previously admitted, not even to myself, but I miss him.
The only reason I got any sleep was because he was with me. I’m hoping that him leaving doesn’t mean we’re starting at square one again. I don’t know what I would do without him.
What I do know, though, is that he said he wanted me to move in with him and live with him. His conviction was a command that I agreed to last night after I saw the determination in his eyes. He didn’t hesitate to offer me a place to stay, but he did it with full intention.
So I don’t know where he is this morning, but I know it’s not because he changed his mind.
I roll out of bed and check my phone. No messages.
I text Jackson instead: Morning.
When the dots don’t appear, I set it down and go into the bathroom to fix the rat’s nest of hair I twisted into a scrunchie on top of my head. Taking a comb, I start working out the tangles. I can’t help but notice the dark circles under my eyes and how my skin is a little sallow. Stress does that. And here I thought ignoring my problems for so long would allow me to work them out. The opposite happened.
My fate is now sealed when it comes to the apartment. There’s nothing left to do but sell everything and move. After going through my weekday morning routine, I call into work to let them know I won’t be in today or tomorrow. I’ll make up for it this weekend by going in.
Jeans, a tank top, and a cozy sweatshirt are my comfy choices to get me through this move. A knock echoes through the apartment. I rush to answer it, hoping it’s Jackson. A quick peek reveals his grin.
I open the door.
With a dolly tucked under his arm, he grins as if the sunshine injected the brightness right in. “Good morning.”