Page 73 of Dark, Forbidden, & Taboo

“Anyway,” he says conversationally, completely ignoring my request, “I want to ask you something that I probably shouldn’t.”

“The laundry,” I intercede evenly, “is done today. Unless you want to walk around in dirty clothes and shitty underwear for another week, I suggest you fill one of the hampers.”

Eastin sits back in Holden’s chair and tilts his head as he smirks and falters slightly.

“Then I guess you’ll just have to figure it out on your own.”

With a shrug, he gets to his feet and picks up his plate, walking out of the dining room and slamming the door to his room a few moments later.

I drop my forehead into the palm of my hands, stealing a glance at the cellphone next to my plate when it lights up.

Eight days, eight hours, three minutes as the seconds keep accumulating. I swipe away Holden’s text message, I close my eyes and rest my forehead on my now folded arms.

And time keeps marching on.

Chapter

Five

I’ve always been fond of sitting in the small window of the laundry room. Holden had a little home built specifically for this purpose because he said that the smell always gave him a headache.

I particularly enjoy it since it gives me time to myself away from the house, while still being productive.

It’s also a place where I can peacefully smoke my one cigarette of the day without his disapproving gaze on me.

“Cigarettes kill, Greer. You’re much too young to die such a terrible death.”

When his comment fell on deaf ears, he agreed to allow me one per day as long as it was not in the main house. I’m quite proud of the fact that I’ve gotten down to one a day as I used to be quite the chain-smoker.

A small victory in the battle that is my life helps keep me as happy as I can be.

As I take a deep pull, I think about the kiss he gave me before he left. That was the first time in ten months that he had shown any signs of affection toward me and it meant nothing. No matter how desperately the little girl inside of me that married him wanted tofeelagain, not one of my nerves reacted to the gesture.

“Hey!”

I jump slightly and almost lose my balance from where I’m perched. I turn my head to see Eastin standing in the doorway of the laundry room, a hamper so full it’s brimming with dirty clothes, and the same smirk from earlier on his face.

A billow of smoke escapes my lips as his answer and I find myself chuckling as he uses a hand to swat it away when it reaches him.

“Yes?”

He takes the hamper over and sets it by the washing machine before he comes over and takes the cigarette from me then places it between his teeth. He motions for me to give him a spot on the windowsill. I hesitate for a moment before I drape one leg on the outside and use the other to steady myself on the floor inside, scooting back to give him space to sit.

“Strange. He usually doesn’t care for smokers,” he says after he takes a pull and hands it back to me. “He says it rots the body from the inside out.”

“So it does.”

“Greer …” Eastin begins in a slow tone, “how did you meet him?”

I shrug as I tap the ashes off the end of the cigarette before I take a drag and look out the window.

“It was an accident.”

“Most meetings usually are,” he replies dryly, “but what kind of accident was it this time?”

I lean my head back against the frame as I watch a bird flying high above us, and smile when it disappears into the clouds.

“I hit his car with mine kind of accident.”

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