Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
“Don’t excuse them. They tormented me. I handled it and I couldn’t care less about Maxwell, Jonathan, or anyone else, but don’t excuse the fact that they were cruel.” Shane lifted his bottle of beer to his lips, swallowing most of it down in just a few chugs.
Trinity sighed as though he were being dramatic.
He fucking hated Maxwell. Hated people like him—rich, cocky bastards who thought they could get away with anything…but there was a part of him that wanted to see the other man. Wanted him to know that Shane might have stayed, but he’d made something of his life.
Then he was pissed at himself for even thinking it mattered what that fucker thought about him.
“Everyone’s wondering about him,” Trinity added. “I mean, his parents rarely spoke about him since the day he left. No one knows what he did with his life or anything. It’s always been a mystery.” She winked. “One I can’t wait to unravel.”
“Jesus, Trinity. He was a horrible person.”
“His dad just died, Shane,” she reminded him.
“And I’m sorry about that, but that’s as far as my concern over Maxwell Sullivan goes.”
She rolled her eyes and walked away to help someone else.
“Sounds like a dickhead,” Ryan spoke from beside him. “I hate people like that.”
Shane nodded. “Yeah, I do too.”
*
Van couldn’t believe he was back in this town.
Here, he’d been Maxwell. He hated who that person was, hated the things that person did.
One week to the day after high school graduation, he’d driven his car to the bus station in Portland where he’d left it for his parents, gotten a ticket, and sworn never to come back. He’d wanted a fresh start and that was when he’d become Van.
He’d made good on that promise not to return until now, and he fucking hated it. Hated that he’d had to come back. Hated that he had to see the Welcome to Last Chance sign when he drove into town. Hated that he still knew every street and almost every shop, and that his car had practically steered itself to his mother’s house.
He’d wanted to leave the town and his past behind him and he’d done that, only he hadn’t forgotten like he thought he had. Jesus, he wished he’d forgotten.
All he had to do was help his mom sort things out after his father’s death, to help her move and he could be on his way again.
And Shane….
If he was still in Last Chance, Van owed him an apology. He owed Shane more.
Van pulled up in front of the large, Colonial-style home. The yard was as impeccable as it had been his whole life, though not because he or anyone in his family had taken a hand to it themselves. No, they’d had people for that, and his mom obviously still had people for it. They’d always prided themselves on things looking perfect from the outside—What people think of you matters, Maxwell. Make them respect you. Make them fear you. It doesn’t matter what you do as long as you command respect. His father had been good at that. Van had been good at it too. He’d kept up the façade of everything looking perfect on the outside, while inside? Between the walls of the house and the inside of Van’s head for the first eighteen years of his life, had been nothing close to perfect. The Sullivan family was a well-constructed lie.
And he was back. Why had he allowed himself to go back?
He dropped his head against the back of the seat, took a couple deep breaths, killed the engine, and got out of his car. There was no use in stalling. He’d help his mom get settled after his father’s death. It had been the reason he’d come. She’d never sounded needy for anything in his life until she called to tell him his dad had died nearly a month before and she needed him to come home. She hadn’t been there for him growing up, but something had made him want to be there for her now and he wasn’t happy about it.
Once they got things sorted out, he would head back to Southern California and never set foot in Last Chance again.
His knee popped when he got out of the car. He brushed his hand down his pant legs and noticed paint stains around his fingernails. It wasn’t anything new. His hands had been calloused and paint-stained for years, but he’d bet his mother would make a comment on it. Luckily for him, he didn’t give a shit.
Van made his way up the porch stairs and knocked. He waited a few moments and when no one answered, he knocked again. As soon as he lowered his hand, the door opened.
“You need to shave,” was the first thing his mother had said to him.