What We Leave Behind by Linda Oaks & Boom Factory Publishing

Author:Linda Oaks & Boom Factory Publishing [Oaks, Linda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Boom Factory Publishing, LLC
Published: 2021-01-20T16:00:00+00:00

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A boom like thunder has me opening my eyes and blinking groggily. The room is dark except for the faint glow of light from the television set. The sound is muted. My gaze lands on the red numbers of the alarm clock. It’s eight forty-five. Groaning, I push myself up from the bed. My head feels as if it’s been stuffed with handfuls of cotton and my eyes weighted down with bricks. I blink, forcing them to completely open, and scoot up in the bed until my back hits the headboard.

Another loud boom rattles the hinges of the metal door to my motel room. I hope whoever the hell is knocking will give up and go away. I don’t feel like talking to anyone. Whatever they’re selling, I’m not buying.

“Open this fucking door now, Lucy,” an angry voice bellows.

It’s Boone. Why is he here? He should be at the bar right now working. The even bigger question though—what does he want? Last night, he must have recognized me at the bar. I thought he had, but still, I hoped it was too dark.

I can’t remember if I locked the damn door, and when the knob turns, the door swings open, and I have my answer. Fuck. A tiny chunk of dry wall falls to the carpet as the door bounces back. He catches it in one big hand and is now standing in the doorway, looking back at me, a menacing shadow with steely blue eyes.

“You need to leave.” My voice is scratchy from crying and hoarse with sleep.

As he steps inside, turning on the overhead light, the room shrinks in size. The bright glare from the light hurts my eyes, and I blink, trying to focus. He shuts the door behind him. “Get your ass out of that bed, sweetheart.” His gaze drifts around my room. It’s as if he’s searching for something, but what? Finally, he pauses at my duffel bags on the floor shoved into a corner next to the bed. He moves for them, ignoring me, and grabs the bags, walking straight over to the dresser.

“What do you think you’re doing?” It’s pretty obvious, but if he thinks he can run me out of town before I’m ready to go, then he’s in for one hell of a fight.

Ignoring me, he yanks open the first drawer, unzips the bag, and begins shoving my things inside. He’s making a mess. Plus, he’s touching my bras and panties. “Boone.” Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I rush to him and grab his thick wrist. His pulse spikes, thrumming headily beneath my fingertips. “Stop,” I order.

His anger radiates in waves, heavy and thick, tainting the air between us. Harsh eyes bore into me, and his upper lip curls cruelly. He turns from me, shaking off my hand, and continues to pack my things.

“You’re not running me out of town.” Even though I’m more than ready to leave, I’ll be damned if it’s his decision. It’s mine.

“Not yet.

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