Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 160042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 800(@200wpm)___ 640(@250wpm)___ 533(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 160042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 800(@200wpm)___ 640(@250wpm)___ 533(@300wpm)
I take a deep breath here, clutching the edge of the desk, trying to get myself under control. I wasn’t planning on dumping the entire story on him, and in a way that makes so little sense. I was just… I wanted him to understand that I need to know.
It’s imperative that I know.
I open my mouth to apologize, but the guy, looking really spooked and confused, blurts out, “Grayson.”
“What?”
He glances over to the computer for a second before coming back to me. “Arsenal Grayson.” I watch him going for the phone by the computer. “I could just give him a call and tell him you’re here and…”
He says something else, but I miss it.
I miss it because I rush out of there. Even if I had stayed back there, I know I couldn’t have heard him over the loud, loud pounding of my heart. The loud fucking rush of blood in my veins.
Grayson. Did he say Grayson?
He said Grayson, didn’t he?
I need to get away from this place. I so fucking need to get away from here. I need to run.
So that’s what I do. I start running as soon as I hit the pavement, my footsteps even louder than my heart now. My breaths exploding out of my chest, my skin sweaty and prickly and tight. So tight that it feels like I will burst out of my own body.
But it’s fine.
It’s fine because if I keep running, if I get as far away as I can from the motel, from where he is, I’ll be okay. I’ll be alive.
Oh God.
Oh God, I can’t believe…
I can’t believe this is happening. This is…
But he’s Bo. He’s my Bo.
He can’t be a Grayson. He can’t be… There has to be a mistake. He’s not a Grayson. And he is absolutely not the same Grayson as the Graysons of the Rawhide ranch in Black Rock.
Because that would mean…
I don’t know what that would mean. All I know is that if I don’t get away, he’ll kill me. He’ll kill me because I’m from Wildfire ranch. It doesn’t even matter that I’m not a Turner. He’ll kill me simply because of my association, because the Graysons have vowed to kill every single one of us.
But again, I don’t get it. I don’t…
Then, in the next breath, all my thoughts explode and I burst out of my skin anyway because I hear him. I hear his footsteps. They’re loud and thudding. Pounding. So much so that the ground shakes beneath them and I lose my balance.
And then I can’t run anymore because he’s on me.
His arm is locked around my waist like a shackle, and my back is pressed against his chest. The chest that I dreamed about a million times over the last six months and the one that I saw at the café today. The burly and broad and oh my God, so fucking hard chest that is leaving bruises on my body right now.
I open my mouth to scream, but something else entirely comes out. A ragged whisper, a plea: “Please, don’t hurt me.”
And then his big and rough hand closes over my mouth, and all hope for me is lost.
To: Bo Porter
From: Peyton Turner
Dear Bo,
It’s 2:11AM and I can’t sleep.
I keep thinking about your letter. About what you asked. It was so surreal. I can’t believe you noticed. People usually don’t. Not that I want them to but still.
I don’t really talk about it or even think about it all that much. Because it’s not going to change anything, but it’s my mother. She’s never been a good judge of character when it comes to men.
Or rather just one man, my daddy.
He isn’t a nice man; he liked talking with his fists more than his words, and growing up, I watched my mother take the brunt of it. She also took the brunt of his infidelity, as well as his lack of attendance in my life. He’d come and go as he pleased, without a care for anyone. My mother, though, always waited for him. Always turned the other cheek, always treated him like he was the only man for her. I never understood why, except she’d say that she loved him, and you didn’t choose the people you loved.
So I told myself that I’d never be put in a position like this: to fall in love with a cruel man.
I’d always be careful and smart; wary and cautious. Even if it meant leading a simple life. A life without adventure or twists and turns. Meaning no nights out, no partying, no going away to exotic places on spring break. Definitely no boyfriends. Honestly though, my best friend dates enough for the both of us and just by watching her I don’t think I’m missing anything. But anyway, it’s just me and my school and my job at the library. It’s not the most exciting life but it’s peaceful. It’s exactly what I never had and what I wanted.