Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 129027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
“No. It’s just—” My jaw clenches, but I hold my head up. I’m done with that church mentality bullshit. I don’t have to be embarrassed about this stuff anymore. “I take antidepressants and beta blockers for my anxiety, some other pills for migraines, and Ambien when I have trouble sleeping. Plus a bunch of other vitamins and natural stuff that’s supposed to help with everything.”
“How often do you get migraines?”
I want to snap that it’s none of his business again but then remind myself it might be. “Around my period, and they pop up other times when I get really stressed. The medicine helps.”
“Any side effects I should know about?”
“No. Just if I don’t have them when I need them.”
“What happens then?”
My breath huffs out. God, I hate being put on the spot like this. I don’t talk to anyone in my real life about this. Just my therapist. In spite of how much work I’ve done about de-stigmatizing my feelings about mental health, I’ve apparently still got hang-ups. “I can get panicky and have trouble breathing. Sometimes, I have full-blown panic attacks. It’s not pretty.”
“What can I do if that happens?” He’s still being totally serious—like he was at the house—and it’s throwing me off.
“Um. I can give you some literature and a website that tells you how to help when someone goes into a panic attack. Mainly, it’s just staying calm and helping them focus on breathing. But you don’t need to worry. I handle them fine by myself. I know what to do.”
“I’m not going to leave you alone if you’re having a panic attack. Give me the stuff to read. I want to learn. I’m good at staying calm in a tense situation.”
He’s looking me in the eye as he says it, and his calm manner cutting through the schoolyard bullshit he usually gives me shows he’s telling the truth.
“You really can just turn it on and off like that, can’t you? God, that’s infuriating.”
He laughs. “What’s that, Red?”
It’s infuriating that he can be so calm when I walk around, driven by this chittering, unwieldy energy that keeps me on pins and needles all the time. Not that I’m going to tell him that.
“Never mind,” I mutter. “Enough with the interrogation. I’m exhausted. It’s time for bed.”
“Why didn’t you say so?” He runs and leaps onto the bed, upsetting the neat wall of pillows I lined down the center. He haphazardly pulls the sheets over himself and puts his hands behind his head, making his gigantic biceps flex. Then he breathes out with a loud, relaxed noise. “That’s what I’m talking about. Much better than my futon at home.”
“Ugh,” is all I can growl in frustration before stomping off to the bathroom. I let the door slam, but I can still hear his chuckles echoing after me.
FIVE
ISAAK
I wake up in the middle of the night breathing hard, sweat pouring down my head, and I know that, fuck, I’ve had another nightmare.
I can’t remember the dream this time, but the scents of burnt rubber, smoke, dust, and blood are familiar in my nose. In my head. And the ringing noise that’s the loudest thing you’ve ever heard but sounds like total silence all at the same time. Until the screams start to filter in. Even though I can’t remember the dream, the images still start to pour in.
So much choking... and the first thing I saw once the dust settled was the blood. So much fucking blood—
I go to jackknife up when I feel pressure on my chest and realize—oh shit. I’m not alone. It takes my still-scrambling brain to figure out where the hell I am.
I never stay over at a woman’s house after we fuck.
But right. Right.
The new job.
Kira. The stalker. The fucked up scene we found in her house last night.
I’m in a hotel room with Kira. And not just in a hotel room.
I’m in a hotel bed with Kira.
Naturally, her side of the bed is empty.
She’s currently curled up in my arms, half on top of me, her wild red hair fanned out across my chest. She’s sleeping as peacefully as a kitten. Snoring, actually.
Little adorable snorting snores.
She feels good there. Real good, actually. Too good.
Me and women, we don’t generally get to the snuggling part. I don’t choose that kind of gal on purpose.
I don’t need to inflict my shit on a good woman. So I just take mutual urges out on ladies who are just as fucked up as me. Women with low expectations, who don’t mind when you put your belt back on almost as soon as your boots are done knockin’.
But Kira’s not that kinda woman. You take one look at her fancy bag and know that.
Not to mention, she’s my fucking client, and I can’t do anything to fuck up this business I’m trying to get off the ground.