Spare Parts (Dark Romance) (Parts of Me Book 1)
Page 18
To all my other betas and C/Ps your input and critiques have been invaluable, without you Gabriel would not have been where he is today.”
About the Author
Jane Wynters doesn’t quite know how to answer the question of “where are you from?” She’s moved from place to place like a snowflake on the wind always searching for a safe place to land. She loves meeting new people and exploring new places. She loves reading, writing and conjuring new worlds from her imagination. Coffee is at the top of her food pyramid and she is fluent in three languages, her favourite being sarcasm.
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Also by J. A. Wynters
Standalone
Guarding Gabriel
Coming Soon
The Parts of Me Series continues with:
Fixed Parts, Book 2 (preorder now available)
Broken Parts, Book 3
Torn Apart, Book 4
Picked Apart, Book 5
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Fixed Parts, Parts of Me series, Book 2
PART EIGHT
Nothing screams at you louder than silence.
I woke up. My face, pinned against the white door, felt bruised and sore. I wasn’t six anymore, and Alice wasn’t on the other side.
No one was.
I remained slumped against the door. My back ached from sleeping in a seated position. I felt parched; I should have left.
But I couldn’t stay away.
I wanted to…
I needed to…
I wanted her.
I needed her.
I knew I shouldn’t have stayed, but I was consumed. Possessed. Desperate.
I kept waiting.
I waited until my stomach grumbled, and the sun shifted across the horizon colouring the walls in yellows and oranges.
I waited as life moved around me in slow motion. People moved on with their lives, while I sat at her doorstep with withered wings and a splintered soul.
I watched the clouds move across the sky, cars rolling by, and dogs sniffing at trees.
I waited till the sky fell black and the smell of dinner wafted from beneath doors and oozed into the street. And when she still hadn’t shown, I crossed the road to the phone booth and called Salvatore.
The phone rang once before he picked up.
“It’s me.”
“What do you need, boss?”
“First, I need you to stop calling me that,” He huffed. “Then I need you to find Mia. She’s not at her place, she didn’t come back last night, and she hasn’t shown all day.”
There was hesitant silence on the other end of the line. “What do you want me to do with her when I find her?”
“Just let me know where she is.” My body hummed with tension.
“And that’s all?”
“That’s all.” I heard the sharp exhale.
“Consider her found.” The line went dead.
My mind felt broken.
Shattered.
My body felt heavy, which was strange given how empty I felt.
I slumped into my car seat, and the engine roared to life. I shot Mia’s apartment one final glance, then took off.
When the mind is in pain, it finds anchors to latch onto; small things in each day to make it more bearable, survivable—small, achievable tasks.
I didn’t know how long I had been staring at the gaskets but, when I moved away, my palm felt warm as if I had been grasping it for a while.
My mind kept slipping to the first time Alice disappeared. The fear. The coiled stomach and cold fingers, the tightening of everything.
The wait.
The agonised minutes and hours.
These days, I was used to Alice disappearing—it was just what she did.
But Mia?
Where the fuck was Mia?
Mia had been gone for a week and the unknown gnawed at me. Salvatore remained silent; no answers, no Mia. Was I going to find her like they found Rita? I slammed the bonnet shut and trudged to my room, slamming the door behind me. The boys would take care of the cars; I needed to take care of business.
I felt stiff.
Stiff from anger I couldn’t shake, stiff from desire I couldn’t quench, stiff with worry that wouldn’t settle.
My body shook as I fought the urge to throw everything around the room, to fight the white walls till they bled. Instead, I discarded my work clothes and dressed in something more comfortable. I called for Spots, and we ran.
The wind whipped against my face, pushing itself into my burning lungs, forcing me to breathe, to inhale, to clear my mind and focus. My feet pounded the pavement, and Spots’ paws clipped against the road as he bounded behind me. With every heartbeat, hot blood rushed through my body, pushing the choice from my heart to my brain, forcing me to accept the inevitable. I kept running, running from ghosts of the past and into the arms of the monsters that waited on the other side.
The sun was somewhere between hanging low and sinking. Indecisive. Unsure of its place. Just like me. It knew its path, but it hung on a little bit longer, resisting, fighting. Fighting the pull, the force, the burning course that has been carved out for it. It was losing the battle when we reached the garage.
I panted, sucking in deep lungfuls of air, as I pushed through the door. Sweat burned my eyes and leaked down my face. I stroked away the beads, listening. The office phone rang. It buzzed like an annoyed insect in the silence of the garage. I took the steps two at a time and grabbed the receiver.
“She’s at Stephano’s.” His voice was calm.
The breath left my body in a sharp exhale, “Thanks.” I hung up.
It was going to be a long night.
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