Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 137433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 550(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 550(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
My knees brush the dirt, the ground hot from the fire. People are laughing and whispering and fuck,
I am never going to forgive her for this. Not Sober Bailey and not Drugged-up Bailey.
All versions of her are mixed together into a person I really should fall out of love with.
When I finally get to her feet, I lift my gaze to meet hers. I can tell she has somewhat sobered from her initial request—maybe she never thought I’d go along with it—because suddenly she looks full of remorse.
Her eyes are wide, red and tinted with sorrow.
Ignoring her unspoken apology—un-fucking-accepted, by the way—I rise up to my feet and pin her with a death glare. “Happy?”
She swallows but doesn’t say anything.
“Good. Now get out of his goddamn jacket.”
She does as she is told, shaking and trembling. I should be more self-conscious about what’s happening, but maybe Grim is right.
Maybe I am imploding. As soon as the jacket isn’t on her anymore, I snatch it from between her fingers and chuck it into the fire. The flames devour it before it even hits the ground. Austin snivels, “What the shit, Cole!”
Tackling Bailey’s midriff, I throw her over my shoulder and march right out of this stupid place.
Donnie trails behind us. “C’mon, Cole, the party’s just getting started! More kegs are coming, and I’m about to open my dad’s Macallan!”
Everyone follows us with their eyes as I get out the front door.
Bailey erects two middle fingers in no particular direction, laughing tiredly. “Yup. Take a good look at the perfect Bailey Followhill. Not so perfect anymore, huh? Don’t use drugs, kids.”
Jesus Christ. She is more unhinged than Austin’s jaw.
“How’d you get here?” I bark.
“Mom gave me a ride, and my friend Avery vouched she’d keep an eye on me. I’m still not allowed to drive.”
“Shocking. I’m taking you back home.”
I shove her into my car. It’s only when the engine roars to life, and the air-conditioning blasts out arctic air, that I remember I’m shirtless.
I back out of the parking spot and start driving. Dove doesn’t say anything, and thank fuck for that.
I’m still processing tonight. She humiliated me publicly. I guess I did the same to her too, in a way. In all of our time together as friends, we’ve never crossed these boundaries before.
We’re both messing with our bracelets. I’m about to rip mine off, I’m so mad.
“Sorry abo—”
“Shut up, Bailey.”
“I…um…” She scratches her cheek nervously, staring into space.
“You what?” I bark impatiently.
“Before we went to Jackson Hole I, um…borrowed some of your RCs from your collection to pay for…uh…”
“Drugs,” I finish for her. My remote control planes are my pride and joy.
She knows it more than anyone else. She bought me some of my most expensive pieces with her hard-earned money.
“Yeah,” she says quietly. “Mom keeps tabs on everything I own because she knows junkies steal and sell things for drugs, and as you know, I refused any of their credit cards and wanted to be financially independent…” She trails off.
I close my eyes briefly when we reach a red light. I just hope she didn’t sell one of the really good ones. Knowing her, she didn’t. But still. What a shitty thing to do.
“How do you pass their drug tests?” I demand.
“I…well…” She looks around, doing anything other than meeting my gaze. “I’m not actually taking anything anymore. Which is why I’m being so horrible to everyone. Sobriety sucks.”
“You’re clean?”
She nods. Then starts crying. Hard.
I bite my lip until blood oozes out. Well, at least it explains her behavior tonight.
“Lev, I’m sorry,” she hiccups, sobbing harder. “For everything. For tonight, for your RCs—”
“Please, please,” I growl. “Just shut up and let me drive before I hurl us both off a fucking bridge.”
The rest of the journey is spent trying to calm myself and her down.
I keep reminding myself she is suffering. In pain. One of her legs is so swollen I’m pretty sure her bone is about to poke out. I have to give her a little leeway here.
We’re almost at the cul-de-sac when Bailey opens her mouth again. “Take me to the woods.”
“No can do. I’m planning to take Austin there after I tear him limb from limb and make his family play scavenger hunt to put-together his body.”
She doesn’t crack a smile. Just turns to me, her eyes pleading. “Lev.”
As always, I can’t deny her.
I start driving toward our secret spot. I’m so confused, my head’s about to explode.
Yet I always knew we’d be here. In this moment. On the seam between enemies and lovers.
“The pills…” Bailey clears her throat. “I didn’t start using because of the pain and the injuries. Back at Juilliard. I mean, of course, they played a part. But it wasn’t just about that.”
“No?” I ask. She is opening up to me. Explaining how she got from being the nerdiest person I know to a drug addict.