Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 75107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
“Think you underestimate how much we ran tonight. The adrenaline probably made it seem like it went by faster than it did. You were pretty far into the park.”
“I was a lot further at one point. But I started making my way back. I don’t know how I didn’t freeze to death. Is it still snowing?”
“Seems more like sleet now. And, yeah, you scared the fucking shit out of me. Never felt like that before.”
“You’ve been in situations where you needed to… use lethal force. But me getting cold was as scared as you’ve been?” I asked, my tone dubious.
“In those situations, it was my life. It was nothing. This was your life. That’s everything.”
My heart squeezed hard in my chest.
“Your life isn’t nothing.”
“It ain’t much.”
“I think you’re selling yourself short.”
“Came from shit. Still live there.”
My face scrunched up at that.
“So, by that logic, my life is nothing too. Because I spent most of my childhood in shelters or on the street.”
His gaze cut to mine, sharp, seeing too much.
“It’s different.”
“Why?”
“You had a good mom. Just a bad hand of cards.”
“You didn’t choose your parents,” I reminded him. “Just because they might not have been good people doesn’t mean you aren’t.”
“I’m a fucking mobster, babe,” he reminded me. “Didn’t have to go down this route.”
“I think we both know the issue is systemic. And once you get in deep enough, there is no getting out.”
“I don’t want to get out.”
“Because of the money?”
“It’s a big part of it.”
“What’s the other part?”
“Having other people to rely on.”
I glanced a little pointedly around the room, brow raised.
“I called everyone I could. Before my phone died. Dunno who set this place up. But they remembered condoms and extra batteries for the remotes… but forgot a fucking charging cord.”
“Figures. You could run out and get one.”
“I’m not going anywhere. Not tonight. We both need some rest. I can go out in the morning.”
“Won’t your boss be angry he can’t get in touch with you?”
“Angry? Doubt it. Curious about what’s going down, since I called a bunch of people? Maybe.”
“Would they come here?”
“Maybe eventually. Probably not before I get in touch with them, though.”
I nodded at that as I clumsily held the spoon in my hand to avoid touching my cut palm. “This is better than I remember,” I declared when I finally got some in my mouth.
“Yeah,” Venezio said, already polishing off his, then setting it aside. He reached for my bowl, taking it and the spoon away from me.
“What are you doing?”
“Watching you try to do that is painful,” he said, scooping up some noodles and holding the spoon to my lips.
“You’re feeding me?”
“Not if you don’t open your mouth.”
To that, a little snort escaped me.
I opened my mouth, though, and let myself get fed for the first time since I was a baby. It was a surprisingly intimate act and I was a little sad when the soup was gone.
“What time is it?” I asked when he took the bowls and headed to the kitchen to wash them out.
“Just after two. We gotta get to bed.”
I was more than happy to oblige him on that.
“What are you doing?” I asked when he came back and scooped his arms under me.
“Keeping you off your feet. Grab that bottle of water. You gotta finish it.”
“You’re bossy,” I said, but I was smiling as I leaned my head against his chest, listening to the steady thud of his heart.
“‘Cause you don’t follow instructions,” he said, giving my body a jiggle.
“Well, you wanted me to eat. I couldn’t eat and drink at the same time.”
“Yeah, yeah, likely excuse,” he said, giving me a smirk as he lowered me onto the bed.
“Shouldn’t we put the sheets on the bed?” I asked, looking at the large quilt he had spread across the bare mattress.
“Why?” he asked, seeming genuinely confused by the idea.
“Don’t you have a fitted sheet on your bed?”
“Guess mine looks a lot like this,” he said, waving at the bed. “‘Cept my mattress is in one of those bags.”
“Bags?”
“Seals around it, keeps bugs and water and shit like that out of it. Got burned too many times growing up. Know better now.”
“Men,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m assuming you don’t have a headboard either.”
“What do I need a headboard for? I’m not sitting up in bed. I barely sleep,” he added.
“Why?”
“Rather be working.”
“I mean, I like sleeping. But I get what you mean. I have a little bit of a lingering scarcity mindset I need to work through. I tend to work late.”
“Recording,” he said, going into the closet.
“Yeah.”
“I listened to a few.”
“You… listened to a few of the books I narrated?” I asked, not sure if I was delighted—or embarrassed—by that. Especially given that I mostly narrated books that got pretty spicy. And the things I read were things I would normally never say in real life.