Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 62997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
I scream too. I don’t know what I say—maybe Cole’s name.
His dad looks up, pauses to glare. It gives Cole time to scramble out from under him.
“Get back in your house,” his dad snarls at me. He slurs slightly, definitely drunk.
“Cole,” I rasp, my throat raw from screaming.
“Get in the house, Pink.” Cole spits a mouthful of blood out on the ground. His dad lunges again, but Cole dodges him.
I run back inside for my phone, then come back out, my thumb hovering over the keys to call 911. But I can’t bring myself to dial.
I refused to go into the sheriff’s today. I didn’t want my story spread far and wide.
Maybe Cole doesn’t want his home life problems public, either.
“Dad, stop!” Casey cries, hovering a few feet away. “Bring it back inside.”
Her dad takes Cole to the ground again, landing several bone-crunching punches that make me want to puke.
A neighbor shows up, the guy who lives across the street, I think. “That’s enough, Jerry,” he shouts, jumping into the fray and grabbing Cole’s dad’s shoulder. Jerry shakes him off. “John, help me get him off!” he shouts to another neighbor who’s come out to witness the horrific scene.
“You get inside,” he tells me. “You’re only making it worse.”
The words rattle inside my skull.
This is about me. And I’m making it worse. I turn and run to my house.
I don’t realize I’m sobbing until I’m inside, watching from the cracked door as the two neighbors drag Jerry off Cole.
“This can’t go on, Jerry,” the neighbor says. He finally succeeds in getting Jerry away and the drunk man shakes himself off and stalks past his flinching daughter to go inside.
The neighbor helps Cole to his feet.
I creep back out. I don’t know what I think I can do. All I know is I can’t just stay inside my house when Cole is suffering outside.
“Might be time to fight back, son,” the neighbor says to Cole in a low voice.
Cole throws the neighbor’s hand off his shoulder. “Go fuck yourself, Lon.”
“You watch your language, boy.” The neighbor’s tone turns sharp, but Cole gives it right back, crowding into his space without raising a fist. Bowing up, pushing his chest against the older man’s chest and eyeballing him like he wants to fight.
The neighbor, Lon, puts a hand on Cole’s chest and shoves him back. “I’m not your enemy.”
Blood drips down Cole’s nose and mouth, coating his lips. “Neither is he.” He jerks his head toward the house.
The neighbor shakes his head, turning away. “I know it.” There’s defeat in his tone and the slump of his shoulders.
There’s rage in Cole’s. He stalks up his steps and slams the front door, the sound reverberating all the way down to my soul.
I go inside, shutting my door as quietly as I can. And when the tears start falling, I try not to make a sound. And when I can’t hold in the sobs shaking through me so hard my bones ache, I cover my mouth and cry some more. I cry for the boy next door. I cry for the boy who hates me so he doesn’t have to hate his father.
Chapter 6
Cole
It’s past midnight when I wake up. My window’s open, moonlight streaming in.
That wasn’t what woke me, though.
It wasn’t the pain of the beating, either. That’s already half-healed. By tomorrow it will be nothing.
That’s the thing about wolf discipline. It’s more about dominance and humiliation than actual pain. Casey and I aren’t in real danger.
But that doesn’t mean the shit doesn’t hurt.
I rub the stubble on my chin and blink into the darkness. There’s a tug on my wolf, pulling me to the window. And I know exactly what I’m going to see when I look out.
Even so, my heart stutters.
The little human is standing outside. Standing underneath my window, looking up.
Like she’s waiting for me and she knew I’d come. Prickles run across my skin.
She’s in the same dress she wore today—another short one, blue and white stripes. She lost the Converse, though. She’s barefooted on the crushed granite. Which must hurt her tender human feet.
I’m in gym shorts. I pull on a black tank top as I stare down at her.
She’s standing there like a fucking tribute. A virginal offering.
She must really feel guilty.
I shove the window open and pop the screen out. It’s not the first time I’ve climbed out this window, but I try not to make it look too easy when I scale across the patio overhang and drop to the gravel in front of her. “Hey.”
She’s crying. Silent tears that streak down her pale cheeks. I wonder if she ever stopped. If she’s been leaking those salty tears since she saw the ugliness that is my dad shit-faced. The scent of her tears does something to me. Makes me itchy and raw, with the need to smash things with my fists.