Wrecked Read Online A.J. Wolf

Categories Genre: Romance Tags Authors:

Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 27343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)

I thought he was my savior.
But I’ve come to learn that not all acts of kindness, no matter how small, are actually that kind.
I thought I was lucky to have such a beautiful soul enter my life.
But I wrongly assumed he had a soul at all.
I thought that I was finally free from the shackles life had strapped me with.
But I realized too late they were just replaced by a new pair.
Not all deals are made with a handshake and consent. The one I unknowingly made is going to lead me into destruction.
He is going to leave me irrevocably Wrecked.


My fingers shake inside of my pockets, a soft tremble that doesn't quit even after I clench my hands into fists. I stare into my reflection of the glass pane of the gas station door for just a moment before it opens from the inside; my normally warm skin has turned pale over the last few months and I know the rich mahogany of my hair, now hidden under my hood, has lost some of its shine. Stepping back, I nod in thanks to the man who walks out, holding it open behind him for me to go in. I smile at the clerk behind the counter as I pass. Pulling my trembling fingers from my pockets, I remove the hood from my head while walking to the small, somewhat messy coffee station.

Grabbing a napkin from the dispenser, I wipe up some spilled creamer that had been left by a previous customer, tossing it and the wet sugar packets that were lying beside it in the trash bin. Standing on my toes, I use one hand to hold my hoodie to my stomach, back from the counter, and the other to reach for a small paper cup and lid while eyeing the cappuccino machine. The caramel vanilla spice is calling my name, but I know without looking that it's more than I want to spend on it. I'm already cutting it close by spending the ninety-nine cents the drip coffee will cost.

With a small sigh, I stick my lid into my pocket instead of setting it on the dirty counter, grabbing a few packets of sugar as I watch my cup fill up. Ripping the tops off, I dump them in and give it a couple of swirls with one of the few wooden stir sticks left. Tossing the trash away, I pull the lid from my pocket and secure it on top. The cup is almost too hot for my hands, my shaky palms lightly burning as I look for a cardboard sleeve with no success. Setting the cup on the counter, I pull my sleeve over my hand instead and re-grab the cup. Eyeing the rest of the room, I notice a few other people have walked in while I was busy with my coffee. Using my free hand, I adjust my hoodie collar, my fingers moving higher to run over my crown to smooth back any loose strands from my ponytail while walking toward the food deli.

Standing before the sandwich deli I bite my lip, lightly tapping the money in my pocket. I have three dollars and fifteen cents. After my coffee, I have just about two dollars for this. I grab a wrap from the top rack, my fingers shaking as I pull it toward me. I swallow as a man steps up next to me, his elbow lightly tapping against my arm as he takes his hand from his pocket to grab a ham and cheese sub. I step aside, staring down at my wrap. I hope he doesn't notice how badly my hands shake as I put it away after seeing the price, and hope that if he does, he just thinks I'm cold. It is still chilly out, the snow just starting to melt on the sidewalks despite the sun shining down for most of the day. My stomach clenches the same time I think about it and I will it not to growl.

It has been days since I've eaten a full meal.

My heart thumps harder every second he stays next to me, my nerves starting to get to me as I try to quickly look at the price tags without making it too obvious. I can tell he's watching me and it makes me even more aware of how odd I must seem, staring so hard at every label. Trying to break the tension gathering in my limbs, I cast him a small smile, peering at him from the corner of my eye as I reach past him to grab a half sandwich. The price tag is faded, but it looks like it's under two dollars.

"Tuna fish from a gas station? You're brave." I huff out a small, kind laugh at his joke. Standing back, I press the sandwich to my chest to help calm my hand. I don't care what I eat at this point, as long as I get to eat.