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)
Marsden is extremely angry about it all, and both brothers had a huge problem with Arsen’s recklessness. Also about the fact that Arsen didn’t want Peyton to go, not for him. He didn’t want anyone to risk their safety for him. While Marsden also doesn’t like Breck’s condition, he understood that they might not have a choice in the matter except delivering Peyton to them. Although none of them had anything on Rad’s anger. That quiet man roared the loudest during the argument and said in no uncertain terms there was no way Peyton was going. Which pissed Peyton off because who the hell is he telling her what to do; and if she wanted to go, she would.
All in all, it was a big mess that involved a lot of shouting and cursing and big decisions. If I’d had the capacity to join in the shouting match, I would have. I didn’t want Peyton to agree to Breck’s condition either. But back then, I was still in a lot of pain, and all I could do was sit in Marsden’s office when Breck called and let it all play out, while staring at my best friend with dread in my eyes.
“He won’t if he knows what’s good for him,” Peyton says, lifting her chin.
“But—”
Now she grabs my hand and squeezes. “Look, I know you’re worried about me but I promise you I can handle it. I know how to deal with my family. I’m more worried about you because you’re going to be alone and…” She bites her lip. “Are you sure you can’t work things out? I mean, with him.”
Again, this isn’t the first time she’s asked me this—we’ve had plenty of conversations over the week, rehashing everything that happened that night, the possible future and my past—but the stab of pain I feel in my chest is just as fresh and new as it was when she asked me this earlier in the week. I have to break away from her grip and focus on fiddling with the zipper of my suitcase so I can answer: “He doesn’t want anything to do with me.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Peyton raises her eyebrows. “He gave up his whole big plan of vengeance for you.”
“He didn’t do it for me.”
He did it for Rose. He did it to keep her alive in his heart, and I’m so relieved about that, it doesn’t even matter why. I’m so relieved there was something that could stop him; honestly, I don’t even care why he stopped his plan, just that he did. Do I still love him? Of course I do. And do I wish he loved me back? Yes, I do wish that. But you can’t always get what you want. I’m just thankful that I got one of my wishes at least.
While I told Peyton almost everything this past week, this is the one thing I can’t share because it’s not my place to do so. But if she knew the conversation we had just after he rescued me, she wouldn’t be saying these things.
“You got kidnapped and he agreed to dissolve the stupid marriage the very next day,” Peyton tells me like I don’t know. “Who do you think he did that for?”
“It doesn’t matter who he did it for,” I tell her, shaking my head, trying not to let my heart soar; I do not need false hope. “All that matters is that he’s going to be safe now. He’s going to live and… That’s the biggest thing I wanted for him. And yes, I love him and for a little while, I thought he was mine. He felt like mine. He felt like my safe space, my adventure. My husband. But it was fake. At least the husband part. It wasn’t even my name on the certificate. It doesn’t get faker than that. In any case, he didn’t feel what I felt. He cared about me, yes, but… I was just some girl to him and I… All I want to do is move on.”
Besides, it’s not as if he’s running after me. Granted, I told him to stay away. But if you want to be with someone, no one and nothing can hold you back, right? I’ve been living on this ranch for the past week, and if he wanted to, if he was dying to be with me like I was—am—dying to be with him, he could’ve found me, but he didn’t.
I will admit that it makes me angry. It makes me furious that he hasn’t yet come for me. I’m leaving in an hour, and I don’t even know where he is. If he knows I’m leaving. But I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to color my memories of him with anger. I didn’t want it before, and I definitely don’t want it now when he’s taught me so many things about myself. So I don’t want to think about him anymore.