Total pages in book: 195
Estimated words: 185573 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 928(@200wpm)___ 742(@250wpm)___ 619(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 185573 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 928(@200wpm)___ 742(@250wpm)___ 619(@300wpm)
She eyes the liaison, who’s shuffling through paperwork on the other side of the room. “And what about your little stay at the ranch? Do they know about that?”
“Yes.”
I discussed it with the recruiter, and since I wasn’t treated for any mental health conditions, as far as they’re concerned, it’s not something I need to hash out.
“This is happening,” I tell Mom. “It’s already done. I’m eighteen today, and you know if I went back to the house, Stefan would toss me out on my ass. There’s no point in taking a stand now.”
“Madden.” Her voice fractures as she reaches out to touch my face and then thinks better of it. There’s more emotion in her eyes than I’ve ever seen from her, and I fucking hate that it’s only now she decides to show me she even gives a shit about me.
“This isn’t what I imagined you’d be doing,” she says. “But if it’s what you want—”
“It is.”
“Okay.” Her shoulders fall in defeat. “Then I guess all I can do is support you.”
I’m lying in the hotel room alone, staring at the alarm clock as I wait for sleep to come, but it doesn’t.
After my mom retreated to her usual self, she left to check into a spa on the Riverwalk. She claimed she needed to de-stress before heading back to Edinburg, but I think she was just buying herself time.
I asked her not to tell anyone where I am until I’m gone because goodbye feels permanent, and I’m not ready to face that thought just yet. In two days, I’m heading for the Marine Corps boot camp in South Carolina, and I don’t know when or if I’ll ever decide to return. I don’t know if I’ll want to. Because when I do, everything will be different.
I close my eyes and try not to think about it, but my phone chimes again. I don’t have to look to know it’s Bianca. She’s been texting me all day, asking me where I am. Why my mom had to come to San Antonio. Am I okay? Will I please just talk to her?
I’ve read them all, but I can’t find it in me to respond. She’s made her choice, and that’s all that’s left to say. So I reach over, flip the volume to silent, and cover my face with the blankets.
Chapter 41
Lyric
“Oh my God.” Birdie moans as she chews through the last bite of her pizza. “Someone make me stop. I have to stop.”
Gypsy tosses another piece onto her plate and rolls her eyes. “Just eat it and enjoy.”
Birdie rubs her stomach with a painful sigh. “I can’t. I’ll explode.”
Her phone rings, and a smile lights up her face. “Hang on, that’s Ace.”
She bops out of the room and down the hall, taking her conversation where we can’t hear her. I’m left alone at the table with Gypsy, who I still haven’t quite decided I like just yet. She seems nice enough, I guess, but an awkward tension lingers between us. Or maybe that’s just me.
“Where did you learn to cook like this?” she asks as I take my plate to the sink.
I stare at the pile of dishes and shrug. “I don’t know, actually. I have no idea.”
She’s quiet, and I’m not sure I want to know what she’s thinking. After leaving the hospital in New Orleans, I learned that people react one of two ways when you tell them you have amnesia. They either don’t believe you, or they feel sorry for you.
“You can’t remember?” Gypsy asks.
“No.” I expel a harsh breath. “I don’t remember anything about my life, whatever life I had.”
There’s another long silence, but this time, when I turn to look at her, I can tell she’s sizing me up, too. She’s trying to decide whether I’m telling the truth, and I don’t see what difference it makes to her. Just when I’m about to get defensive, she interrupts me.
“Kodiak thinks you’re her. Do you?”
Her.
The ghost in the photos. The woman plastered all over his walls and heart and mind. A part of me hates her for having that hold on him. And another part of me wishes I could convince myself I was her. At least then, I would know someone cared about me.
“I know he wants to believe it,” I murmur. “But I don’t.”
Gypsy brings her plate into the kitchen and sets it next to the sink before turning her gaze to me. “I’m sorry for whatever happened to you. If you really can’t remember your life… that’s truly awful.”
“I sense a but coming,” I tell her.
She looks over her shoulder and sighs. “My husband’s going to be so pissed when he finds out you’re here, and I didn’t say anything.”
“Why?”
“He’s Kodiak’s attorney,” Gypsy explains. “He defended him during the trial. He’s been helping him through the last five years.”