Fire Away (BUNKHOUSE #2) by Lainey Lawson EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Lainey Lawson
- Language: English
- Genre: contemporary romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 4 MB
- Price: Free
SAVANNAH
Spending the day in jail isn’t so bad. In a small town like Westridge, they
bring you coffee with extra sugar and turn the TV toward your cell. Not
having paperwork in front of me or a million emails to answer is a welcome
bonus too. The only downsides so far have been the smelly drunk in the
corner and not having anyone to call who is willing to come bail me out.
I’ve been here before. Not on the wrong side of the bars, exactly, but in
the misery of another all-time low. Each time I find myself in the throes of
it, I ask myself the same question. Is this it? Is this the time that I finally
push the limits of my self-destruction so far that there’s no coming back? I
always beg and plead with the universe to get me out and give me another
chance.
I won’t put myself in this situation again, I swear. I’ve learned my lesson
this time, I promise. But the outcome never changes, and I know even
without a crystal ball that this will not be the last time I land on the jagged
sharp surface of rock bottom.
I wasn’t dumb enough to expect my dad to come to my rescue today.
Bad news travels fast, so I’m sure without even speaking to me to get my
side of the story, he’s created his own narrative that what happened was
completely my fault.
Maybe it was. Maybe I’m the problem.
I’m not sure it matters at this point, though. He hasn’t gone out of his
way to help any other time that I’ve gotten myself into some form of
trouble regardless of whether or not I was to blame.
Even though he considers me a disappointment, you’d think he’d at
least still answer my call. A clear vision of him huffing out a breath and
rolling his eyes as the collect call flashes across the screen of his phone
plays in my mind. The mental image is enough for shame to heat my
cheeks.
Feeling like I’m not worth his time or effort is an inevitable sentiment
for me. But even as familiar as it is, it’s still hard to stomach.
According to the black framed digital clock above the door on the other
side of the room, I’ve been stuck in here going on seven hours. My feet are
beginning to throb in my heels because I’m too scared to take them off and
let my bare feet touch the cold concrete floor. It doesn’t look too dirty, but I
can’t even begin to imagine the amount of invisible germs swimming
around on it. Shifting my full weight from one foot to the other every so
often will have to do for now.
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