Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 127390 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 510(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127390 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 510(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
“Promise?”
His eyes flickered with a danger that had become so common. “Promise.”
Chapter 5
One Year Later
We didn’t speak as we left the hospital.
Ranger held my hand, though, I didn’t want him to touch me. I just didn’t have enough energy to try to pull my hand out of his iron grip. Didn’t have the strength to look him in the eye and tell him his hand on my skin made acid from my heart crawl up my throat.
He needed this. Some form of support. Of love. Because this was the only thing he could do. The only thing he had control over was the grip he had on my hand. He couldn’t save me, couldn’t save the baby we’d lost at fourteen weeks.
So he held my hand.
And I tried to handle it.
The entire club was there when Jack was born.
There was no one there when my second baby died. This was not something to celebrate. People did not want to be around this. Have to face the ugliness.
Even Ranger didn’t want to be around this. Around me. He wanted to escape. I didn’t blame him. If I could’ve escaped my body, I would have.
He wordlessly opened the door for me, helped me in then closed it. I held my breath, trying to prepare myself for being in an enclosed space with him. My husband. The man I knew better than myself. The man who knew everything about me. I winced when he got in the car. The air felt stifling, I couldn’t breathe around him.
Ranger went to start the car then paused, looking over at me. I saw all of this through my peripheral vision, no way could I look straight at him.
“I don’t know what to say,” he choked out, voice broken.
I continued to stare ahead of me. As cruel as it was, I couldn’t control it.
“Don’t say anything,” I replied, my voice emotionless. “Just take me home.”
I didn’t have shoes.
If the check-in clerk at the only slightly cheesy, Hawaiian themed motel two hours out of town thought that a woman checking in with no shoes and luggage consisting of two paper bags full of vodka was odd, he didn’t show it. He simply handed me a plastic key card and told me to enjoy my stay.
I didn’t reply, but I don’t think that bothered him either. He just went back to his crinkled Playboy.
It must’ve hurt, walking with bare feet along the rough ground. But I didn’t feel it. I was numb. Except between my legs and in my stomach, which felt painfully empty and ruined. The vodka would surely help that.
It would help me forget that I’d walked out of my house, the one where my husband was bathing our child, and stolen the first car I could, stopping only to get vodka, then drove myself out of town without a word to anyone.
Yes, I needed to forget that too. Even now, the shame and guilt crawled up the back of my neck and threatened to paralyze me.
My hand was shaking when I put the keycard in. Still shaking when I unscrewed the first bottle of vodka. It was steadier when I opened the second one.
Something blocked out my sun.
There had been a bright warmth at the back of my closed eyelids, one that I was trying to get to burn away all my shame—in addition to the vodka I’d ingested—and put me to sleep.
I’d managed to get some—sleep, that was—the night before, but that was only because of the sheer amount of vodka I’d consumed on an empty stomach.
My head was still pounding, and the candy bar I’d choked down from the vending machine hadn’t exactly soaked up much alcohol.
I was still wearing my clothes from yesterday as I hadn’t had the sense to pack a bikini for this trip. Which was fine, since the pool looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in the past month. Or year, maybe.
As it was, I was doing my best to soak up the sun on this crappy lounger, trying to forget about what a terrible person I was.
It had been almost working until someone decided to block out the sun.
I kept my eyes closed for a full minute, hoping whoever was there would get bored and leave me alone. No such luck. With a frustrated groan, I succumbed to the fact that I’d have to go through the painful process of opening my eyes.
The figure was blurry at first, but familiar. Wearing a Sons of Templar cut. Should I have been surprised?
“I thought it might take you a little longer to track me down,” I muttered, my words thick.
Gage stared down at me for a beat, probably deciding whether he was going to try and talk to me—not exactly his strong suit—or just do the alpha male thing and throw me over his shoulder then drag me back to Amber.