Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 124135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 621(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 621(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
“Back off!” Easton’s drunken voice rang out across the field. People gave him a wide berth as he stumbled our way, still clutching his tequila bottle. It was empty. “Cromwell!” He stopped beside me and swung his arm around my neck. “That set!” he slurred. “Can’t believe you’re here, man. In Jefferson! Nothing ever happens here. It’s a boring shithole.”
He slumped down next to the barn. Matt tried to get him to his feet. “Fuck off!” Easton snapped. “Where’s Bonnie?”
“She’s coming.” Easton dropped his head but nodded to show he’d heard.
“He’s my ride,” I whispered to Matt.
“Shit. Our ride is full. Bonnie will take you home. She always takes East back to y’all’s room anyway. She’s nice. She won’t mind.”
“I’m going to get my things.” I ducked back into the barn and got my laptop. I pushed my hair from my face as I exited the barn. I scanned the grounds. I was hoping coming here would make me feel better. Would take this dark pit, the one forever trying to cave in my stomach, away. I’d played my music to a packed crowd. Spoke to people, but I could feel the sadness I’d pushed down low fighting to be freed anyway. Ready to consume me. To bury me in the past.
Coming here had made no difference at all.
I noticed a silver 4x4 parked across from me. The headlights blinded me as I approached. I winced. My hangover was well and truly setting in. Matt was helping Easton off the floor, some new girl in tight jeans and a white cardigan on Easton’s other side.
This must be the sister. I made my way over as Matt shut the car door. Easton lay sprawled, knocked the hell out, on the back seat.
“You’re okay to get him home?” Matt asked the girl, before he hugged her and let her go. Sara did the same.
“Yeah,” she said.
“Cromwell!” Matt ushered me over with a wave of his hand. The sister didn’t turn as I approached. Her back was rigid. “Over here. Bonnie’s taking Easton home.” He looked down at her. “You won’t mind taking Cromwell, will you? There’s no room left in our ride. East brought him here.”
I didn’t hear her reply. Instead, I moved to the boot of the car and put in my stuff. Matt waved at me as he walked away, taking Sara with him. Kacey put her hand on my arm. “Nice to meet you, Cromwell.” She walked away with everyone else, looking back over her shoulder one more time as she did.
Just as I was about to open the passenger-side door, Easton’s sister turned to face me. I couldn’t believe my eyes.
A hazy memory hitched a ride on the warm breeze and bitch-slapped me across the face.
“Your music has no soul…”
She sighed, clearly seeing my pissed-off reaction, then said, “Hello again.”
“You.” I laughed dryly at the way the bastard universe liked to work against me.
“Me,” she said, seemingly amused, and shrugged. I watched her as she walked to the driver’s side. Her dark brown hair was off her face, just like it had been in Brighton. She wore it in a ponytail, the tail hanging down her back until it stopped halfway down her spine.
She got in; then the passenger-side window rolled down. “You getting in or are you walking home?”
I rolled my tongue ring in my mouth, trying to unclench my fists. No way would I show her how much that one bastard line she’d said on a cold-ass summer morning in Brighton had got to me. I refused to let it affect me like that again.
Bonnie, as she was apparently called, revved the engine. I huffed a disbelieving laugh. I opened the back door. Easton was snoring. His arms and legs took up every bit of space.
Bonnie leaned back, looking at me through the seats. I avoided her eyes. “Looks like you’re gonna be up front with me, superstar.”
I gritted my teeth and took a long, deep breath. I searched for where I’d been sitting. The Jack was still there. I ran over to get it then slid into the passenger seat. I was going to need alcohol for this journey.
“Jack Daniels,” she said. “Seems like you and he are close friends.”
“The best,” I said and slumped in the seat.
The silence in the car was deafening. I reached over and switched on the radio. Some folk song was playing. No thanks. I flicked on the next song on her playlist. When Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony started, I decided to just turn the damn thing off.
“Your choice in music leaves a lot to be desired.” I took a long drink of my Jack. I didn’t know why I’d even opened my mouth. I was never the first to speak. But as her words from that night circled my head, I’d felt the anger rise up inside me and they’d just spilled out.