Lotto Trouble: A Reverse Harem Romantic Comedy (Lotto Love Book 2) by Ann Denton

Author:Ann Denton [Denton, Ann]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Le Rue Publishing
Published: 2019-08-27T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

Katie

For the first hour, Alec carries me while I sob. He tries to set me down once or twice, but when I try to run off through the trees to find Danny and stop him, Alec resorts to holding me pressed against his chest. His suit jacket gets soaked, and I’m not sure if it’s from my tears or from the effort of carrying me through the afternoon heat. Eventually, I calm down enough to walk on my own. But the ache in my chest doesn’t let up—it hurts so bad that I think dying might hurt less. The fear for someone else, for someone you care about … that’s worse than death. It’s a kind of pain that eats and gnaws at you, like your insides are full of gleaming orange coals that burn away your very spirit.

I’ve been scared for Heather. But I don’t think anything that’s happened feels as real as this. I haven’t seen her face. I’ve imagined her suffering. But I haven’t seen. And imagination versus the moment Danny walked away, determined to find a beach and wade into that water because he thought that was the best option for us ... Fucking hell. It’s the noblest, stupidest, most awful thing I’ve ever lived through. And yet … it makes me love him all the more. I love Danny.

I know I shouldn’t. Logically, it doesn’t make sense. He’s too young. He’s a fucking liar. We hardly know each other. But he’s sweet and funny and selfless. So selfless. And all my logic just fades away when my mind conjures up his face. Heather’s always said love erases your brain and makes you a bumble butt. I always laughed at that saying. She used to say that about herself and Shane Paul every time she took him back. I guess it’s true. For me and Danny both. Him, for being stupid enough to throw himself in the ocean on the off-chance he survives, me for loving him all the more for doing it.

Thinking all that just makes the tears start back up. I’m so dehydrated, they’re just a drizzle, rather than the storm they started off as.

Kenneth hasn’t said a word all afternoon, not since Alec explained Danny’s plan to him. But, when my chef notices my tears, he comes over and takes my hand. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t look at me, just takes my hand and walks next to me, sharing in my grief.

We walk until what I guesstimate is three or four in the afternoon. I don’t have a way to judge other than the heat, but it’s blazing hot. It’s the time of day I’d normally bustle around getting snacks ready and setting up evening events, enjoying the crisp feel of air-conditioning. Today, our dogs are dragging. My feet pine for running shoes. My stomach gurgles and my mouth is as dry as the Dust Bowl. I’m starting to lose focus. Instead of mentally reviewing the items in my boxes that

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