Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
“Jess got kicked out of school for hacking their system and got caught up in some trouble with the guys he was dealing for. My mom’s boyfriend beat the shit out of both Jess and me because we wouldn’t give him drug money, and when the cops showed up on our doorstep, I took my opportunity. I ratted my mom and her boyfriend out, and when they took her to jail, I called Henry, packed a couple bags, and left with Jess the next morning.”
“That’s why you had a black eye when we met?” Dare asks, his voice deadly calm, but his expression murderous. He cups my cheek, and I nod, soaking up his touch, my hands covering his wrist.
“I just wanted a fresh start,” I breathe, tears pricking my eyes. “I hate talking about this stuff,” I say, covering my eyes with my forearm. “It’s embarrassing.”
“You were trying to take care of your family. There’s no fucking shame in that. I wish I had someone who cared about me half as much as you care about your brother.”
“Tell me about you?” I ask, hoping he doesn’t deny me after spilling all that stuff about myself.
“Quid pro quo, huh?” He’s on his side facing me now. His voice is so nonchalant, but I can tell he feels anything but. “I never knew my parents. I was left in a parking lot when I was four, along with a note with my first name and birthday. No last name. I guess I was found at the store on Adair Street, so that’s where my last name comes from.”
My eyes widen at his words. He mentioned being in foster care, but I didn’t know the details. I feel stupid for being so wrapped up in my own stupid problems that pale in comparison.
“I wasn’t where I should’ve been, developmentally speaking. I was small. Malnourished. I barely spoke. I didn’t even know my last name,” he says, giving a bitter laugh. “What four-year-old doesn’t know their own name? I had behavioral issues, too. No one wanted that. They wanted to adopt adorable bouncing babies with big gummy smiles. When I got older, I was mad at the world, jumping from foster family to foster family, never staying anywhere for more than a few months, and the ones who did keep me were usually abusive pieces of shit who just wanted a paycheck.”
“That’s awful.” My tears are for a completely different reason now. My heart physically hurts thinking of little Stefan, all alone in a parking lot. We might have been dirt-poor, but at least Jess and I always had each other growing up. That was one thing we could always count on.
On the day Dare and I met, he told me he’d wet the bed until he was twelve. I’d laughed, thinking it was just embarrassing kid stuff. Now, I feel like a pile of shit because it was so much more than that. “You never had one family that was good to you?”
A darkness flashes across his features. “I did, for a while…” He trails off, seemingly lost in a memory before clearing his throat. “But it didn’t work out.”
I reach out to trace the pine tree silhouettes on his forearm. I don’t know why, I just feel the need to touch him in this moment. Dare tenses, but he doesn’t pull away. I feel something rough and bumpy under the ink, and when I look closer, I see the skin is slightly raised there.
“What happened here?”
“Double compound fracture. Two plates. Ten screws.”
“Jesus, what were you doing?” I run my fingers along the line that runs from the top of his forearm down to his wrist.
“Fell on the ice.”
“It looks like a centipede,” I remark. When I look up, Dare’s staring at me intently. I notice the faint freckles on his nose for the first time. They make him look innocent and boyish—two words no one would ever use to describe him, I’m sure.
“What?” I ask, pulling back.
“Can I…try something?”
“If it’s anal, the answer is no. I’m too tired,” I say, trying to bring some levity to the conversation.
“Not tha—wait, you’d let me if you weren’t too tired?” he asks, raising a brow. A half-smile tugs at his lips, and I feel victorious for putting it there.
“I’m joking,” I say, slapping his arm. “What were you going to say?”
“This.” The brief, playful demeanor is gone, and in its place is something almost vulnerable. I don’t know where he’s going with this until he nudges me over and settles in behind me, curling his arm around my waist, his nose in my hair.
“Cuddling? You want to try cuddling?” I ask, incredulous.
“I’ve never done it,” he admits.
Something shifts in this moment, and I realize Dare and I might be more alike than I thought.
“Me neither,” I whisper. He squeezes tighter and cups my breast.