Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 119230 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119230 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Mom flies to her feet, her brows pinched with irritation. “Don’t you speak like that about another human being. Orlando is doing us a huge favor by allowing us to move out of this dangerous area. We should be thankful rather than attacking his son like that. Jensen is … strange, yes, but to make awful assumptions like that is a despicable trait, and I will not tolerate it from my daughter. You know how dangerous words can be, and you will not destroy somebody’s life by being careless with how you speak. Is that understood?”
I let out a heavy sigh and drop my gaze. I can’t stand Jensen. He’s creepy and weird, but she’s right. “I know, I’m sorry,” I murmur, the words tasting like lead on my tongue while also hating how much of a stranger my mother sounds to me right now. “I just … I don’t want to move away, and I sure as hell don’t want to move into a home with a bunch of rich guys that we don’t really know.”
“Honey, I know this is a big change for you, but Orlando and I have been dating for a little while now. I trust him, and I’d like it if you could trust him too, or at the very least, trust my judgment on this.” She takes a breath and moves back toward me, reaching for my hands. “This is the best move for us. With Damien joining the military, he could be gone for any length of time, and I would never forgive myself if I left you in a position where you were unprotected. This area just isn’t safe for us now.”
“But …” I let out a heavy sigh, understanding her point but not liking it one bit. “It already takes me fifteen minutes to get to school. This is going to add …” I pause, trying to do the math. “Another forty minutes minimum, considering there’s no traffic. That’s … THAT’S ALMOST AN HOUR! EVERY MORNING. WHAT? NO. Absolutely not. I’d have to leave at like seven in the morning just to get to my classes on time. It’s my senior year, Mom. That’s not fair. There’s gotta be something else we can do. Moving in with this guy isn’t it.”
“I’m sorry, Brielle,” she tells me, her stare hardening with authority. “That’s the other thing I wanted to discuss with you.”
I shake my head before she has a chance to utter the words I fear the most, and a sense of dread washes over me.
“I’ve enrolled you in Bradford Private. You’ll no longer be attending Hope Falls Public.”
Erica’s shocked gasp sounds from my door as I stare back at my mother, tears threatening to fill my eyes. I stand, shaking my head. “No,” I tell her, gripping her hand tighter. “No. You’re not pulling me out of Hope Falls. All my friends are there, my teachers, my … my …”
“I’m sorry, Brielle. It’s a done deal. Orlando has paid your tuition fees and we’ll be making the move to Bradford first thing in the morning. This isn’t up for discussion.”
Mom gives me one last tight smile before squeezing my hand and turning on her heel. She hightails it out of my bedroom as though she can’t get out of here soon enough, and before she even crosses the threshold, Erica is already barging straight back in, her arms flying around me and holding me tight. “It’s going to be okay,” she tells me. “We’re going to be okay.”
Chapter 3
BRIELLE
Bradford can suck my big-ass metaphorical dick.
I’ve been here for all of thirty seconds. I haven’t even stepped inside the stupid house and I already hate it. Mom and I had brunch here last week, and I didn’t give two shits about the home because there was no way in my wildest imagination that I would ever have to be here again, let alone moving all my worldly possessions into it.
This can’t be happening. It’s just after midday, and it’s as though I’ve been living inside a nightmare all morning, unable to wake myself and make it all go away.
The movers arrived at the crack of dawn, and I had to scramble out of bed to pack my things before they came barging into my room and insisted on doing it for me. Now, I’m not one to care about random people seeing my underwear but having strangers in my space and touching all my things just feels wrong.
Mom gives me an encouraging smile as we look up at the big house we’re about to call home. It’s not massive like the mansion I’d been in last night, but it’s definitely a huge upgrade from the modest three-bedroom shack I’ve called home for the past six years.
The house is situated toward the end of a private road with others, nearly identical, lining the street around us. It’s not exactly a gated community, but it’s well on its way. Expensive BMWs, Mercedes, and Audis line the road, and I find my gaze settling back onto my old Honda Civic. She definitely doesn’t fit in here.