Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Once all the plants were in the tub, soaking up as much water as they needed, I took myself into the guest room, stripped out of my dirty clothes, and stood under the spray until the water heater ran out of steam.
Claudia’s words drifted through my head enough that some part of me started to believe them. But I knew it was just wishful thinking, that I wanted an excuse to be able to show up at Vital Greens again to see her. Under the guise of giving her an apology her grandmother said she would want.
I knew better, though.
Because Claudia hadn’t been in that kitchen. She hadn’t seen the way the deception had etched shock, hurt, and anger on Rue’s pretty face, hadn’t watched her slip guards up and around herself in real time, making her harder, harsher. I hated it. Even if I saw it gave her the strength to stand up to Huck instead of shrinking into herself, instead of the panic overtaking her.
As I pulled the plants out of their bath and placed them back in their homes, I couldn’t help but wonder about the picture Claudia painted, though.
Of a cold Rue.
It didn’t make sense.
It didn’t seem possible.
She was so warm, so soft, so sweet.
It was like a punch to the gut to know that because of me, she wasn’t those things anymore. That she wouldn’t trust people the same way again. That she would second-guess herself even more.
That said, showing up would do nothing but ease some of my guilt while fucking with her mind and emotions once again.
No.
I couldn’t do that to her.
I had to leave her alone.
But make sure that the club was taking care of her, keeping an eye on her, making sure she was safe.
I hadn’t asked what the plan was.
I had to trust that Huck would do what was best for us, yes, but also for Rue. Because Velle was right; Huck might come off as cool sonofabitch at times, but he did care. He always made sure the innocents didn’t get caught up in the crossfire.
Sure, Rue was really entrenched in this shit.
But I was equally sure that Huck would find a way to either cut Marco off at the knees by removing his supply, or, well, he could find a more permanent type of solution.
Either way, so long as Rue was left alone to pick up the pieces of her life and rebuild, I was okay with that.
Even if I wouldn’t get to be a part of it.
I was just going to have to get used to that ache in my chest every time I thought about her.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Rue
Roughly a week and a half passed where I was getting nearly constant texts from my grandmother and sideways looks from Traeger, both of them clearly worried about my sudden change in demeanor.
I appreciated their concern.
But I didn’t want to talk about it.
And I didn’t want to have to keep feeling bad for using whatever coping mechanisms I needed to get through the days.
Did I recognize that I was more guarded, cooler, less chatty? Yeah. Did I know that I hadn’t smiled once in all that time? Not until Traeger told me.
But cold and guarded was better than curled up in my bed sobbing. So they were just going to need to roll with it.
Of course, I didn’t want to feel this way, be this way, forever. I wanted to feel ease again, comfort, friendliness, happiness. With those things out of reach at the moment, though, I was okay with just getting through it by whatever methods necessary.
“Coffee,” Traeger said, dropping down a cup in front of me, the glass already starting to sweat.
It was my fourth coffee of the day.
Traeger was showing his support with caffeine.
I’d never loved him more.
Really, he’d been so great about everything. The “break-in,” my closing the shop for a day, then showing up in a zombie state for a day or two, followed by this new iteration of me.
He’d asked a few questions at first, but hadn’t pried. I think he was just trying to make it clear that if I needed someone to talk to, he was there, that he understood betrayal and bad break-ups.
And while he did still make his concerns clear, I had a feeling it was more out of concern for my mental health than anything.
I guess the one good thing that came out of this whole mess of a situation was that either my anxiety and depression had regulated themselves a bit, or the new meds were pulling their weight. Because I wasn’t nervous and panicky. I wasn’t dreaming of my bed all day. I was just… hurt. Angry.
Both, I felt, were acceptable considering what happened.
“You’re a saint,” I told Traeger as I reached for the coffee.
“To further cement my saintly status, I was thinking of going out and picking up lunch. A real carb fest. You in?”