Total pages in book: 21
Estimated words: 19985 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 100(@200wpm)___ 80(@250wpm)___ 67(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 19985 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 100(@200wpm)___ 80(@250wpm)___ 67(@300wpm)
I bite my lip to stop myself from giggling as I type.
So, remember that guy from the bookstore? The one you said looked like he eats iron or whatever?
Three dots appear immediately. Jules is always on her phone.
Avery…what did you do?
Now I can’t stop from laughing as I reply.
I went home with him :)
Three dots appear. Disappear. Reappear. Then my phone buzzes in my hand with an incoming call. I answer, and Jules’s voice nearly blows my ear out.
“Are you absolutely insane!?”
I twist in bed, embracing the scent of my new man. “Well, good morning to you too, Jules.”
“Are you talking about the prison tattoo guy? You went home with him?”
“His name is Chris,” I tell her. “And you were wrong about him.”
“Oh, honey, I am never wrong when it comes to men.” She scoffs. “You are eighteen, and you went home with a stranger who reads books about security systems and looks like a professional killer—”
“He’s a security consultant,” I correct her. “And he’s nice.”
“Riiiight,” she replies. “And I’m the Queen of England. Please tell me you did not sleep with him.”
I don’t answer right away, which is an answer in itself.
“Oh my God.” I can just picture her shaking her head, resting her face in her hand. “Your first time was with the scary bookstore hitman.”
“And you know what? It was incredible,” I reply smugly, hugging my knees to my chest. “He was careful with me, sweet, sexy, and he held me afterward, and I fell asleep in his arms.”
“Avery…”
“Jules, he’s not what you think. Sure, he’s a little guarded, but he’s a guy. Guys don’t just spill their feelings immediately. He’s good. I know he is.”
Silence on the other end. Then, a long, defeated sigh. “You really like him, don’t you?”
“I do.”
“'Kay, then I want to meet him. Like really meet him.”
“Okay, no problem.” I hear the shower turn off, and my heart leaps. “Jules, I gotta go.”
“Okay. And, Avery?”
“Yeah?”
“If he hurts you…I will kill him.”
I laugh, feeling free like I’ve never felt. Like the world is filled with promise. “I appreciate that, Jules. But he won’t.”
We hang up, and I lie back in bed, positioning my body in the most alluring way so that when he comes out of the bathroom, he’ll want me. Again.
Jules was wrong about him. She only saw the surface. I mean, she barely even spoke to him. She assumed the worst but never saw what I saw—what’s underneath. The man who is gentle with me, asks me if I’m okay. Who has a future planned for us.
I trust him completely and totally.
Which is why what happens next destroys me.
Chris has gone out when I find it.
He said he had a meeting, a “boring work thing” and would be back for dinner. He kissed me and left me alone in the house, which still feels a bit strange.
I’m not uncomfortable, but the only personal items in the entire place belong to me. My toothbrush, sweater, a few hair ties on the counter, and the clothes I brought over from my apartment.
Maybe I’m being a snoop, but I decide to explore the house.
There’s really nothing to explore. No other furniture, no pictures, no nothing. I go to the closet to grab some sweats I brought over, but the door doesn’t open all the way. Something’s blocking it from the inside.
I push harder, and the door gives way. Something big and heavy falls from the shelf above and lands at my feet.
A duffel bag.
It tips over, and out spills countless stacks of banded cash. More money than I’ve ever seen in my entire life. Beneath the cash are two driver’s licenses with Chris’s photo but different names.
Beneath that is a phone I’ve never seen before and something that looks like a folded-up blueprint titled Pacific Waves Bank and Trust. I know that bank. Why does Chris have blueprints to a bank in his closet?
I freeze. I don’t touch anything. I just stare.
My hands are trembling, and not the romantic trembling I get when Chris is around. This is the kind that comes from a chill going down your spine. I stand there, unmoving, waiting for the floor to fall out from underneath me.
Fake IDs…stacks of cash…a burner phone…and a blueprint.
Every potentially sketchy detail about Chris I chose to ignore comes crashing back over me like a wave. The book on security systems, the way he took apart those muggers like it was nothing, the empty house with no personal information. The way he so skillfully deflects every personal question like a man who’s spent a lifetime lying.
Jules’s voice echoes in my head.
Men get those tattoos in prison…you don’t know anything about him…
And then the truth hits me like a punch to the gut. She was right. Jules was right about everything.
And I told her she was wrong. I just told her he was good, that I trusted him.