Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 162003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 810(@200wpm)___ 648(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 810(@200wpm)___ 648(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” I promised. “First thing.”
“Okay, Brighton. Take care of yourself.”
“It’s not goodbye,” I emphasized. “It’s see you later.”
“Alright then,” he agreed. “See you later.”
***
When I walked back out of the hospital, Norma-Jean was waiting for me, ready to pounce. She paced back and forth in her cheap white heels, a cigarette hanging from her mouth as smoke billowed in the air around her. She had been pretty once, but looking at her now it was hard to tell. Her eyes had dulled to a stale shade of green while her skin had leathered and her hair turned to straw.
She cocked her head to the side and gave me a condescending smile as her eyes roamed over my clothing. I was wearing a pair of jeans and a pink cashmere sweater Ryland bought me, and suddenly, I wished I wasn’t.
“What’s with the clothes?”
“It was all I had on short notice,” I supplied.
“They look expensive,” she retorted, sniffing the air as though she could smell money rolling off of me. Norma-Jean had always turned up her nose at anything that looked expensive.
“Look, ma, do you want to know how Brayden’s doing or not?”
She narrowed her eyes at the term she hated, but I didn’t care. I was too tired for her antics.
“I already know,” she snapped. “Just cause’ you come in here looking all fancy, and they tell you, you think that makes you special? Well, guess what, I know my rights, and they have to tell me too. I’m his mother in case you forgot. You can change your clothes and the way you walk like you’re some big shot, but remember the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. You’ll come back here someday. Mark my words. And you’ll be as humble as all the rest of us little folks once you see how the world really works.”
I’d learned a long time ago it was better to pick my battles with Norma. And usually, I wouldn’t have blinked twice at her tone or her snide remarks. But today, it was the final straw. I was sick of her pushing me around. I was sick of everyone pushing me around. And so I opened my mouth and let all the vile hatred that I’d been storing up for two decades spew out.
“I’ll never be like you,” I snarled. “You’re a goddamned drunk and a drug addict, Norma. When are you going to get your shit together? It’s only been forty-six years. Isn’t that enough time to figure it out?”
I knew it was coming. I’d felt the weight of it plenty of times in my younger days. It still shocked me when her palm collided against the side of my cheek. But I wasn’t a little girl anymore, and I didn’t have to put up with this. To hell with what I’d promised Brayden, and to hell with her.
When I looked back up at the regret in her wrinkled face, I did feel sympathy for her. That was the way of an addict. They would lash out at the only people who could ever possibly love them, then feed their self-hatred with more of their chosen vice. It was a vicious cycle, one I doubted Norma-Jean would ever be able to break.
I didn’t need to punish her any more than she was already punishing herself. I simply needed to walk away. So that’s what I did.
But when I turned, I saw Ryland striding towards me. And by the set of his jaw, I was guessing he’d seen the whole interaction. His neck was corded, and his eyes flared with hatred as he stalked towards my mother.
I had to admit, it scared me a little. I’d never seen him so unhinged. So filled with rage. And I had to stop him before he did whatever that rage was telling him to.
I stepped into his path and pushed against his chest, feeling the weight of the muscle heaving with each ragged breath. He didn’t take his eyes off Norma-Jean, and I could sense the volatility growing with each passing moment.
“Ryland?” I grabbed his face and tilted it down towards mine so he could see me. “Hey, I’m okay. We’re okay. Let’s just get out of here.”
“What the hell are you doing with him, Brighton?” My mother’s voice accused from behind me.
How she even knew who Ryland Bennett was I couldn’t say. She’d probably seen him in a magazine and locked him up tight in her mental category of rich bastards she’d hate until the day she died.
“Leave, Norma,” I grated. “Please. You’ve done enough here today. Just go home.”
There was a beat of silence in which I made sure to hold Ryland’s gaze. There was still a storm raging in his eyes, but whatever I was doing appeared to be helping, at least a little. Norma-Jean was still grumbling behind me but stopped the moment he spoke.