Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 147545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
I don’t know how else I would have gotten here, honestly.
I suppose I’ll have to tell my mother about all this soon enough, but not right now. I know the longer I avoid it, the more awkward it will be when she does find out, but that’s a problem for future Cassie to deal with.
I have enough on my plate right now.
As expected, the receptionist tells Tor to go in first while I wait in the lobby. His appointment takes a while.
I’m sipping on my smoothie when my heart nearly stops because Carson and Myra Walters come walking through the door. Time seems to slow down as I register the sight of them. My chest tightens, and breathing becomes more difficult.
“Miss Pritchard?”
The semi-urgent sound of the receptionist’s voice pulls me out of my slow-motion, horrified trance. I look over at her, and she’s waving several pieces of paper, trying to get my attention.
“Can you come up here, please? I have some forms I need you to fill out.”
Slowly, I rise. It’s hard to get my legs working right. I want to run to the desk to get away from Tor’s parents, but it’s like being in a dream where you’re being chased, and you need to scream for help, only to find yourself voiceless.
Except I’m awake, unfortunately.
This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have come here. I wanted to listen to Tor because he has been incredible, but I can’t be around these people in this place.
The receptionist moves out from behind the desk before I even make it there. She offers me a smile and asks me to come with her.
I do.
She leads me down the hall to a small conference room, not glancing back until we’re out of sight of the waiting area. Then she ushers me inside and closes the door behind us.
“Torrance asked me to remove you from the waiting area if his parents showed up,” she explains, putting blank computer paper down on the table in front of me. “I don’t really have any forms for you to fill out.”
“Oh,” I say, surprised at first, then my tense shoulders drop with relief. “Thank you.”
She nods. “Just stay in here, and I’ll let Mr. Walters know where you are in case he wants to see you. Torrance Walters,” she specifies, “not… the other one.”
I offer the faintest of smiles. “Got it. Thank you. I really appreciate it.”
Knowing they’re out there makes it hard not to think about them. I panicked at the sight of them, so their faces are frozen in my memory—the cold, hard lines of Carson’s face, his blue eyes narrowed with disdain, and the paler, more strained look on his wife’s.
It’s hers that gets me.
I’ve managed to avoid feeling guilty about what happened last night. It’s hard because all of this goes against my nature. I’m not a brutal person. I don’t want to hurt people.
But there are a lot of people who haven’t had any problem hurting me.
At a certain point, I had a choice to make. Fight back or let them win.
They’re used to winning even when they shouldn’t.
I think it’s only fair they finally get a taste of loss.
Despite the feelings that have built up inside me over the past year, I do feel sympathy for the pain I know Mrs. Walters must be feeling. It’s just that at this point, my sympathy toward the people who have ruined my life only goes so far.
I feel for her losing a son. I’m still glad I took him from her.
The conference room door opens, pulling me from my thoughts. It’s the receptionist poking her head in. “Tor has finished his appointment. He’s waiting for you at the front desk.”
My heart beats a little faster as I nod, rising from my seat with dread. I don’t want to go back out there.
I do anyway, and as soon as I reach the waiting area, I feel the molten glare coming from where his parents are seated. I ignore it as best I can and don’t look over at them. Instead, I go straight to Tor.
“All done?” I ask, hearing my voice shake a little.
“Yeah,” he says, grabbing my waist and startling me by pulling me closer. “It’s your turn. I know this is crazy. I’m sorry I got you involved in all this.”
My heart stutters, half because he’s touching me, half because I know his parents are watching. “It’s not your fault,” I say awkwardly.
He sighs, pressing his forehead against mine and nearly stopping my heart. “Just tell him what you know, okay? The sooner the cops stop wasting their time looking at you, the sooner they can get to finding the real fucker responsible for Tim’s death.”
He’s a frighteningly good liar.
His hand comes up to cup my face, his fingers caressing my jawline absently, as if they do it all the time. Then he leans even closer, and I gasp against his mouth as it meets mine. His lips are soft, but his kiss is slow and thorough. Despite my shock and lack of preparedness, he controls the pace, controls how I know this must look. He makes it feel intimate, comfortable, and supportive.