Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 119184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Jackass idiot.
My fault.
It’s all my damn fault, and this time, I can’t fathom how I’m going to fix it.
Happy memories from Queenie with Gramps and greyhounds can only help my mental health.
They can’t tell me how to win a fight with Satan.
XXIII
Ruff Days
(Lena)
I should’ve known this curse was coming.
I should’ve known.
Yet somehow, I’m standing there with the biggest shock of my life flashing before my eyes, my worst fears materializing like a hallucination.
The night is dark as August’s private jet cuts through the sky back to Seattle, delivering me to my doom.
Even though Elle told me to put my phone away, I refresh X again, watching the social media carnage unfold.
People from all sides come for Brady, knives out and gleaming, laughing or celebrating the comeuppance of another rich guy they resent only because they’ll never have his success.
Every post by Pruitt Brands turns into a dumpster fire.
Tabloids spinning more rumors, more lies, oh God, asking if I’m still sleeping with a predator who violated me, who tore my soul apart.
A few people are sympathetic, sure. They know it’s revenge porn, but it doesn’t help.
Predictably, eighty percent of the internet is absolutely vile.
Apparently, I deserve this and more for being “a boat hoe.”
Apparently, Brady could’ve done a thousand times better than a “vet slut.”
Apparently, it’s my fault for existing and trusting a man not to be wretched.
The insults fly around my head like shattered glass, finding sharp new places to lodge and cut me deeper.
Whore. Slut. Disgusting bitch.
The list goes on for miles.
The worst part is, they’re the same horrors I imagined after Harry exposed his dirty clips the first time.
It took time and a little therapy to reframe the incident as him taking advantage of me. To see myself as a victim.
Now, as the biting hell from strangers stabs me in the face, I can feel all that therapy work unraveling.
Because this shit show right here?
This feels like my fault.
Elle stirs and turns over. I watch her turning over on the long lounge seat across from me.
I never thought I could be this sad on a private jet, but here we are.
When she realized what was happening, she sprang into action, of course. Thank God.
Once I made up my mind about going home, she had the jet summoned.
She has a publicist now, and she’s offering their help, too, advising me what to do when I return—because I’m done running.
Running isn’t possible after you’ve had one leg gnawed by a wolf.
I just wish some of her solutions didn’t involve felony charges.
My days as a free woman are almost over after I murder Harry Jay for ruining my life a second time around.
Realistically, I’ll weather it like I’ve handled everything else in life, riding out the storm and waiting for it to die down. But first, I need to give Brady an explanation.
He deserves to know why I ran off and left behind this steaming pile of scandal.
He needs to know I just wanted to protect him. Even if I’ve completely lost the plot.
If only he’d answer his phone . . .
I scroll through every social platform we’ve ever connected on, seeing when he was last online. The fact that he’s not responding can’t mean anything good.
Honestly, I wouldn’t blame him if he never wanted to speak to me again.
Hell, I wouldn’t want to speak to me either.
But I have to explain. I have to do whatever I can to set things right.
Elle stirs and blinks just as Seattle’s lights start gleaming below us through the clouds.
“How are you?”
I say nothing. My obvious pain shouldn’t tarnish her kindness.
“I can come with you,” she offers, but her face is tight, uncomfortable looking. God, I’m probably giving her another migraine, and that makes me feel worse.
I force a smile.
“It’s cool, Elle. It’s going to be busy, wasting away in lawyers’ offices and putting out fires. You’re better off at home with August.”
Her face softens at the sound of his name, but she frowns.
“He can deal with a little alone time if you need me.”
Of course I need her.
I need everyone in my corner I can get.
But I also need to handle this alone.
This is still my problem. My responsibility. My disaster.
“It’s fine. Seriously, get home to hubby. I’ll call if I need anything else.”
She leans across to hug me as the plane drops lower for landing. “I’ll come right away. You know it.”
“For sure. But anything I need can be done over the phone. It’s probably best if you pretend you don’t know me for a little while. I’d hate for any of this to rub off on you or Little Key and your books.”
She thunks me on the head. Lightly.
“Very funny. You know I’ll go to bat for you every chance I get. This isn’t your fault, Lena Joly. None of it. Brady knew about this whole thing with Harry.”