Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 61210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
“I’m not here for my mother,” I cut in. “She’ll do just fine without my help. She has plenty of money and pearls and whatever other rich-bitch shit all those Southern socialites need.”
“Stop, young man!” she snapped. “Do you hear yourself? You sound like a spoiled brat. You may not like your Southern roots, but don’t you dare start attacking and judging those who do.” She pointed to the manor. “You aren’t better than them. You can keep telling yourself you are, but you aren’t. In fact, you are quite the arsehole right now if you want my honesty.”
I glanced at the vodka bottle and considered taking a swig from it right then but feared I could give the old woman a stroke. “Call me whatever you want. And you’re right. I am an arsehole. We all are, which is why I left to begin with. I’m trying to be a better man, but I can’t do it here.”
“Running does not make you a better man. Hiding from what made you, and the people who love you is not the way. You run, you drink, you resist everything and everyone, and all it does is hurt you. Not better you.”
“Fine. Your message is heard loud and clear. Are we done yet?”
“I’m half tempted to go find a broom and beat you silly, young man. Someone clearly has to.”
I closed my eyes and leaned back in my chair. “What is it you expect from me? What more can I do? I’m sitting here in this manor even though I don’t want to. I’m doing this for Jasmine even though I fear the business will turn her into someone like my father. I’m trying to be the bigger man.”
“Yes, Jasmine. Think about that poor child when you make your impulsive decisions. You may hate your roots, but don’t force those thoughts upon her. She may be proud of them. She may want to see them grow and thrive rather than rot in the dirt like you.”
I opened my eyes and made direct contact with hers. “I get it. Okay? I get it.”
Mrs. H extended a bony finger at me. “It’s time you grow up, Sully. And I could stand here and lecture you all day, but you need to go after Portia and help bring her back here before you both get caught by the Order and fail the Initiation.”
“Wait… What?” I said, standing to my feet which made Mrs. H take a few steps back. “Did Portia leave the Oleander?”
Mrs. H nodded. “Which you’d know if you weren’t out here wallowing.”
Even though my heart sank to my gut, I couldn’t say I blamed her. “I guess it’s about time she did,” I said.
But damn… we were so close. Our 109 days were almost over, and it did seem like a fucking shame that we went through all of those shitty Trials to walk away empty handed. But I wouldn’t hold us failing against Portia either.
Hell… she should have left the manor screaming from the first night.
“She’s not running from the Initiation,” Mrs. H said. “She’s running to be with her sister.”
“Her sister?”
“Yes…” Mrs. H tilted her head and studied my face. “Didn’t she tell you about her sister?”
“No… what? Why would she leave for her sister?”
Mrs. H shook her head. “That girl… I told her—” she refocused her attention back on me and said, “She’s at the hospital. Her sister is extremely sick. Portia needs you right now. But she needs a man, not a boy.”
Sick?
Mrs. H extended her hand and gripped my arm softly. “I know you. I know the man you are and the demons you’re fighting. But right now, that sweet girl needs your strength and support. It’s time you open your eyes and see past the darkness you have blanketed everything and everyone in. Make the VanDoren name one to be respected. I know you can.”
“What’s wrong with her sister? Why is she in the hospital?” My head swirled and my body tensed. I racked my brain for any mention of a sister being sick and couldn’t remember even the slightest clue. Why would Portia not tell me this?
“It’s not my story to tell,” Mrs. H said. “But she’s at St. Josephs right now.”
As I got ready to run to my truck that I hadn’t touched in almost 109 days, I paused. “Does the Order know she’s left yet?”
Mrs. H shook her head. “Not yet. I haven’t, nor will I, say a word. But you know them…”
I sighed realizing we could have very well gone through this entire Initiation only to have it ruined tonight. They had a way of knowing everything. But fuck that. Who cares? It wasn’t about them right now. It wasn’t about The Order of the Silver Ghost. It wasn’t about me. It wasn’t about my demons with my father and my history. It wasn’t about everything I hated.