Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73817 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73817 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
“So you’re Santa Claus now?”
“It’s a special talent you learn from the streets.” Seany hops onto the banister next to me with ease, swinging a leg over to straddle the railing. “I’ve learned a lot of useful shit from the streets.”
I glance at the side of his face, watching him stare off at the distant waves. Is this still part of the armor he wears? Puffing himself up? Letting nothing and no one faze him? Faking it until he truly does possess the confidence and fearlessness he wants to exude? Or can a person so young really know who someone else is within the space of an hour? Either I’m playing into his game or seeing something he can’t because of his reckless, youthful pride.
“Mmm, it smells so nice out here,” says Seany, nearly moaning the words.
I smile. “That so?”
“Salty and briny and fresh.” He closes his eyes and tilts back his head, letting the breeze play over his face. “I feel like I’ve barely scraped the surface of what this place has to offer. Every time you think you’ve seen everything, you see something else.”
What I wouldn’t give to have his fresh point of view. I remember the sense of wonder I had when I washed up on the shores of this beach town, figuratively speaking. Stars were in my eyes. Possibilities thumped in my heart. Every breath I took was filled with dreams and promise.
“Things are turning around for me,” says Seany with a lift of his chin. “The bad days are behind me.”
Hope can be deadly, I did say. Even dreams have teeth. It’s safe to admire the beauty and splendor of lightning, but only at a distance.
If it strikes close enough, it’ll kill you. “How can you be so sure, Seany?”
“I just am. Look at me now. I found Dreamwood. I’m surrounded by dreams. By happiness. By … this delicious, seaside air.” He peers at me thoughtfully. “I found you.”
“Yes, you did.” I take a breath. “And … you can find so much more than me, too.”
His face wrinkles. “What do you mean?”
“Dreamwood Isle is full of people, Seany. That’s all I mean. Lots of good people … if you know where to look.”
“I know. I’ve been here for a month now. I get the gist. I’m—Wait, what are you getting at?”
He’s already onto me. I pivot. “I just mean you … have the potential of finding a real family here.”
“Like you?”
“Like … whatever real family means to you. You can find a lot more than just me here. You deserve a place like this, a place with possibilities. You’ve had it rough.”
He shrugs. “So? I don’t let it get to me.”
“I mean, the shit you’ve probably had to deal with …”
“Hey, Coop?”
I look at him. “Yeah?”
“Do me a favor. Don’t pity me.”
“Huh?”
“I hear it in your voice. Don’t do that. Don’t pity me. I don’t want anyone’s pity.”
“I … I don’t pity you. I admire you.”
“Don’t admire me, either. I’m not an angel. I’m not an honorable, war-torn hero. I’m just some unlucky kid who needed to get the fuck away from the battleground that was his former home.” He doesn’t look at me, casting his words to the sea. “Sorry for saying ‘fuck’.” He frowns. “And for saying it again just now.”
“You don’t have to be sorry for words, Seany.” I look at him. “Listen, I didn’t mean for my admiration to feel … patronizing. I just look at you and … and I see a strong, smart young man who can have the whole world if he wants. A young man with … with a lot of life left to live.”
He wrinkles his face. “A lot of life …?”
“Just promise me something, Seany. If you really want to stay here, if you want to show your appreciation for me, other than working your tail off at the Easy Breezy.”
He faces me. “Promise what?”
I peer into his sensitive eyes. Even when he ran away from me not a handful of days ago with a handful of salted nuts in his palm and his eyes were hard and defiant, I saw the sensitivity in them then, too. I saw his troubled soul.
No one his age should have such a troubled soul.
They should be free. Open. Explorative. Full of wonder and insatiable curiosity.
I take hold of his hand, startling him. It’s to our clasped hands that I say, “Promise me you’ll keep your doors open. All of them. Every door you find.”
“I … I don’t understand.”
“You don’t have to. My words will make sense when they’re meant to make sense.”
“Then how can I promise—?”
“Keep your doors open, Seany. You’re no one’s toy. You’re no one’s property. You deserve the love and dignity of a prince.” I run my thumb over the top of his hand. His fingers are so soft and gentle, it breaks my heart. “Promise me you’ll remember that.”