Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 100202 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100202 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
“I don’t.” I shrugged. “But it’s not Mom.”
“You know, all your stuff is upstairs,” Ava tried. “You have a ton of big mountain trophies in your closet.”
Sutton’s wide eyes snapped my way. “I didn’t know you competed!”
“I didn’t. Not really.” I offered her the softest smile I could, and I was still pretty sure it came out like a gargoyle. “I stopped competing when my mom got sick.”
“You were really great,” Reed said, his tone full of pride he had no right to. “You shouldn’t have quit.”
“Mom got sick.” I shrugged.
His brow puckered. “We would have made it work if you wanted to keep competing.”
The look I gave him stopped that line of conversation cold.
He sighed so deeply it should have moved the house off its foundation, but he kept eating.
Fuck, I wished Crew were here, but he’d texted earlier today that he was in Aspen. Knowing him, it was the closest he’d come to this place.
Reed laughed at something Ava said, and he looked so much like our dad that my jaw locked and my blood pressure rose. This was wrong. Sitting here, laughing, pretending like we weren’t the world’s most dysfunctional family was fucking wrong.
“He wouldn’t care if you sat there anyway,” Reed went on, and I tried my best to tune into the conversation. “That’s always been Crew’s seat.”
“Well, that makes me feel better,” she replied, her laughter easy.
I shook my head and my blood rose to the boiling point.
“And it’s not like Crew would care, right, Weston?” Reed asked.
“Since Crew hasn’t sat there since he broke his hand in that accident March of his junior year, I highly doubt he’d care,” I snapped, letting my silverware fall to the plate.
“What?” Reed drew back as if I’d punched him in the face.
“March. His junior year in high school,” I clarified. “He fell—”
“I know that,” Reed argued.
“Breaking six bones in his hand,” I continued. “He couldn’t cut his food, and we could see the TV from this side better, anyways, so he moved here,” I pointed to Sutton’s seat. “Where he sat for the next fifteen months until he graduated.”
Reed’s face fell. “He couldn’t cut his own food?”
“His hand was broken. And you would have known just how bad it was if you’d actually been here. But we both know you weren’t, so stop acting like you were.”
Reed’s jaw unhinged.
I didn’t apologize or look away, just kept him pinned to his seat with a stare that said he wasn’t about to change my opinion on this.
Tension rose to a breaking point.
“Sutton, why don’t you go upstairs to Weston’s room,” Callie suggested.
“It’s the second door on the left,” Ava added.
“And count just how many big mountain trophies he has,” Callie finished.
“But Mom—”
“Now.”
I heard Sutton push away from the table and saw her move up the stairs in my peripheral vision.
“Is this how we’re going to do this?” Reed asked, his voice lowering. “You’ve been home for two months and now you want to have it out at the Thanksgiving table?”
I’d had it up to my fucking eyeballs with him telling me what he thought was appropriate, and what he thought I should do about anything. “You lost the right to chastise me like an older brother when you stopped acting like one.”
“I’m sorry?”
“You should be!” I hissed, keeping my voice low so Sutton wouldn’t hear. “You want to know why I quit competing? Because you were off racing every goddamn weekend, and Dad checked out the minute Mom got sick. Who was going to take care of her?”
“Racing was the only way I had to get a scholarship,” he said defensively, dropping his silverware like he’d just now noticed I was coming for blood.
“Oh, I noticed. You packed up and moved to the east coast like life wasn’t going to shit around here.”
“I knew you were angry at Dad, and I got it, but…” He blinked. “This is why you’re so pissed at me? Because I made a life for myself?”
“Fuck, Reed, it’s not always about you!” I shoved away from the table and stood.
“You could have left!” he fired back, standing to face me.
“I was sixteen when she died.”
“You’re right.” His jaw flexed. “You were too young, then. But you had every opportunity to leave after graduation, just like me.” He tapped his chest. “Honestly, I was shocked as hell when you didn’t, considering how much you hate our father.”
“And what the fuck would Crew have done?”
Reed opened his mouth and then closed it. “He could drive by the time you graduated. He wasn’t some helpless baby that needed looking after.”
“He needed someone to contain him so he didn’t get himself killed. He needed someone to sign his permission slips. He needed someone to make his excuses to the office when he skipped school or needed to miss for some half-pipe in Utah. He needed someone to bribe him to graduate from high school when he decided that dropping out was a better plan. I’m the one that kept him in high school, because that’s what Mom wanted. I’m the one that said I’d only take him to competitions if he kept his grades passing. Did you really think Dad was going to do any of that? News flash, Reed. Dad didn’t give a shit about us after Mom died. He threw himself into a bottle, and then into this damn resort the same way you are right now, with single-minded focus.”