Ruining Her (McKinley Ranch Duet #1) by Kylie Kent

Author:Kylie Kent [Kent, Kylie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: McCartney Industries Pty Ltd
Published: 2021-06-29T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

JOSH

The whole way down the elevator, through the lobby and getting to the car, I fight everything in me not to turn around and go back to Emmy. As soon as I get in the car, I pull out my phone and press the number I’ve stored for Emmy. It rings out. Fuck, I told her there was a phone in the bedroom if she needed to call me, not the other way around.

I dial Ella’s number instead. The call almost rings out before she answers. I was prepared to jump out of the car and run back upstairs.

“Did you forget something?” she answers in a singsong voice.

“Put Emily on the phone,” I grunt out.

“What if she doesn’t want to speak to you right now? Let me check.” Ella laughs.

“Emily, there is one overbearing asshole with separation issues on the phone and wanting to speak with you,” Ella says to Emmy.

“What?” Emily asks, and the moment I hear her voice, my muscles begin to relax.

“Josh is on the phone. You want me to hang up?” Ella asks her.

“Don’t you dare fucking hang up on me, Ella,” I yell loudly. I know she hears me when she laughs.

“It’s okay,” Emily says tentatively. Seconds later, she’s speaking into the phone.

“Josh, are you okay?” she asks.

“I am now,” I breathe out.

“Okay.” She waits for me to say something else. I don’t care how crazy I look or sound when I’m around Emily. She’s seen me at my worst and loves me anyway. Even though she hasn’t said those words back to me yet, I know her heart.

“Emmy, I need you to go into our bedroom for me,” I instruct her.

“Sure, hold on,” she says. “Okay, I’m in the room.”

“Open the top bedside drawer and take out the phone that’s in there.” I wait for her to follow the instruction.

“Okay, got it.”

“Now turn it on.”

“It’s turning on. Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t sound like you are.”

“I didn’t know it would be this hard,” I admit.

“What would be?”

“Leaving you in the apartment, being away from you, not being right next to you.”

“Yeah, I know…”

“I want you to keep that phone on you. Text me, call me, send me pictures throughout the day. Please.” I’m practically begging for any morsel of attention she’ll throw my way.

“You want me to send you pictures… what of?” She laughs.

“Your face. I miss seeing it already.”

“Okay, let me figure out how to work this fancy phone first. I haven’t…” Her sentence cuts off.

“You haven’t what, Emmy?” I urge her to continue.

“I, um… haven’t had a phone for a while so I’m a little out of touch, that’s all.”

“How long is a while?” I ask. The more info I can get, the more I can use it to find out who (or what) she’s running from.

“Three years,” she answers.

“Fuck!” My fingers grip the phone so tight I’m surprised it’s not crumbling in my hands. Three fucking years! She’s been living under someone else’s control for three fucking years. She’s been beaten and abused and God only knows what for three fucking years.

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