Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22496 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22496 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
“No.” She shakes her head. “I just got here.”
“Then it’s your lucky day.” That’s a lie. It’s mine. “Got a room upstairs with your name on it.”
“I don’t have money to pay you for lodging.”
“Good. Because between you and me, I’m not supposed to be letting them out. Health inspector would have a fit if he found out.” It’s mostly true. When I found this place, I had grand visions of a bar below and accommodation above. Rules and red tape kept me from opening the rooms to guests. So, they sit empty until some prick at City Hall deems my place worthy.
But no one said anything about letting folks stay for free.
“Have bags outside? I’ll bring ‘em in.” At this point, I’m offering any service I can to turn her frown upside down.
“No,” she says. “Just me.”
“Then how about I show you upstairs and you get some rest?”
She looks up at me with puppy dog eyes and a pout.
“Thank you,” she says.
And my world comes crumbling down around me when she forces a smile onto her face.
2
CARRIE
What the hell are you doing, Carrie?
You shouldn’t be here.
And no, not just in a room with the tattooed, muscled-up tank. If anything, he’s the only good thing that’s happened to me so far. Offering me kindness without so much as a question as to who I am or what I’ve done.
Still, I shouldn’t be in this town. Wandering around aimlessly, relying on kindness from strangers. I’m supposed to be running. Hard as I can, as far as my feet can take me. Then, running some more.
“Here we are,” the big guy says. He lifts one of his enormous arms and reaches behind his head, scratching. If it weren’t for his conversation with the sheriff, I might’ve thought it a nervous tic.
However, nothing about this man makes me think he’s the nervous kind. The way he spoke to the law confirms it. He’s not afraid, not of anything. Maybe that’s why I want to stick around here a little while. If I’m lucky, some of his bravery might rub off on me. Give me the strength to keep running.
To disappear.
Build a new life somewhere else, and forget what I left behind.
“I know it’s not much,” he continues when I don’t speak. His ink-stained arm flexing. “But it’s the best I can do. You’re free to stay as long as you like. Catch your breath, relax. Whatever you need.”
“No, it’s perfect.” My words sound hollow. Afraid. Everything I don’t want to be. “Thank you.”
An enclosed space with a bed and a bathroom. You don’t need much more than that to feel safe. To call home. Wealth, luxury, and prestige cloud your judgment. Sometimes, simple is better. Best. It keeps you grounded and reminds you that there are others who don’t even have these simplest of necessities.
“You’re welcome.” The corner of his lip ticks up.
Among a mix of tattoos from space ships to skulls and crossbones, my eyes are drawn to his hands. On one, a snake’s mouth, wide-open with fangs poised to attack, the other, the snake’s tail. I try to make sense of it, but can’t. Left intrigued, only to find his smile has grown when our eyes meet again.
“Sorry, I . . .” I trail off. Not sure what I’m apologizing for. Staring in general, I suppose. Don’t want to give him the wrong impression. Somehow make him think that I’m put off by the tattoos, when in reality, I want to reach out and touch them. Feel the ink staining his arms. Listen to the stories each of them holds.
Getting lost in his world would be a great distraction from my own.
“Don’t be. I’ve gotten used to it,” he says. “Not many folks around here look like me. Hell, not many folks in the world do.”
“Doesn’t it scare you to stand out?” I ask for purely personal reasons. I’ve spent the last twelve hours trying to make Carrie Goode disappear, yet this man has himself on full display. No fear or care in the world for who might see or recognize him.
Must be nice.
“Have you seen the size of me?” He chuckles, gesturing down his six-foot-six body clad in a black tank top that barely covers any skin and jeans that suffocate his enormous calves. “There isn’t a whole lot that can scare me.” He pauses, eyes narrowing in thought. “Except for bulls, maybe. Wouldn’t want to be on the business end of those horns.”
He laughs. I fake one because he’s doing everything he can to make me feel comfortable.
“You don’t have to put up those walls on my account. It was a bad joke.” He extends an arm out, but it doesn’t reach me. Not yet. He doesn’t want to overstep a boundary I haven’t set.
“I liked it,” I say, doing my best to force a genuine smile onto my face. He returns it, holding eye contact, and then nods.