Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 128083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
He swallowed. And suddenly, his anger and frustration and disappointment and grief—truth be told—for the way she’d believed the lies about him, all converged in his chest. Only this time, all those negative feelings, which had contained a spark of righteousness, took a back seat to the underlying empathy he continued to feel for her, now multiplied. And God, but the influx of hurt he felt for her, and also because of her, made his lungs feel too big for his chest. “Cami, are you okay?” he asked softly as she dug in her purse for the amount displayed on the screen.
She pulled out a credit card and met his eyes. As she handed him the small piece of plastic, he saw that her hand was trembling. “No, not really. You?” There was a bare trace of hostility in her voice, and it wounded him all over again, when he thought he’d hit rock bottom as far as his shame.
“No,” he said. “Not really.”
She cast her eyes aside, and he took the card, their fingers brushing before he pulled away and swiped it. He handed her the receipt, and she took it, then turned away quickly after gathering her bags.
She left without another word, and he watched her walk away, her gait slow and swaying the way women at the ends of their pregnancies moved.
“Hello?” the old man next in line said. “Are you high or what?” Rex looked at him, the guy’s face set in a scowl.
“Sorry, I’m on break.” He waved at the manager who was nearby, and she gave him a nod and began walking over to replace him while he took fifteen minutes.
Rex removed his apron as he walked toward the employee breakroom down a short hall next to customer service. The room was empty, as he’d expected, and he sat down and leaned forward, gripping his head, his fingers raking through his hair. He didn’t want to feel like this. And God, if he stayed in this town, he’d never be able to shake the suspicion surrounding him, even if he’d been officially cleared. Even if the DNA at the scene didn’t match his, and none of his had been found.
Didn’t matter. Like he’d told the old man—nothing in this fucked-up life was fair.
And maybe, eventually, even if he didn’t like to think it was true, he’d turn into one of the bitter old people he saw night after night, ringing their single-serve items through before they headed home to eat alone.
Because the thing was, he already felt the bitterness taking hold, eating away at his innards like a swarm of termites. Eventually, many years from now, when he was all but a hollow shell, someone would push at him, and he’d crumble.
You’re being dramatic, Lowe.
Maybe. But dammit, he still knew he couldn’t risk it.
Because part of the bitterness was fear. He suddenly understood how close he’d come to being arrested and charged with murder. One farsighted witness who was unwilling to budge from their story or another shred of circumstantial evidence, and he might be awaiting trial right this second.
He might have been convicted.
That fear notched up, skittering over his spine when he pictured himself sitting in a jail cell for a crime he didn’t commit against a girl he’d only ever dreamed about and would have protected against any crime, but especially one as heinous as the one she’d experienced.
Rex stood and poured himself a Dixie cup of water from the filtered tank next to the bulletin board. He perused the forms relating to the grocery store employees, attempting to regain his equilibrium before he returned to his register.
His eyes moved down the board, and he drained his cup as his gaze caught on an ad half obscured by an informational flyer. Rex tossed his cup in the garbage to his right and moved the flyer aside so he could better see the ad. Be All You Can Be.
Rex let out a small grunt. He’d tried that route. Now maybe it was time to be whatever the fuck he could be, which was why he was here, biding time in what felt like a liminal space.
He turned to head for the door, but something stopped him, and he pivoted back and tore the ad off the board. He folded it and stuffed it in his pocket and then went back to work.
Chapter Thirteen
“One more push, honey, and the baby will be here,” the nurse said.
“I can’t. I can’t,” Cami groaned, moving her head from side to side on the pillow, her fingers scraping over the sheet beneath her. She’d been in labor for two days now and pushing for three hours. She couldn’t do it anymore. She’d hit her wall.
She was numb, but somehow she still ached everywhere. She was so exhausted she felt insane with it, and her entire body was shaking. And worse than all that, she felt alone and terrified, the fear compounding the grief that she believed would now be a constant. An agonizing weight that she’d carry forever. Mom, I wish you were here. I need you. I can’t do this.