Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 136791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
I smile at that because he's telling nothing but the truth. He's been chasing pussy since he was thirteen. He blew through half the girls in our senior class when he wasn't with Mandy. I'm pretty sure he's in love with her, but they're both too wild to make it work for long.
"You and January are exactly alike," he mutters, still not looking at me. "You're both smart as hell and you'll get the fuck out of here and do great things with your lives. You're already killing it at UCLA. You're both destined for more than poverty and all this bullshit. Me though? I knew a long time ago that this was going to be my life. That's what's fucking me up. You're both going to get out of here and I'll be left behind. So yeah, I know you'll choose her. I know she'll choose you. And I don't blame you guys for wanting to get out of here and be happy together somewhere else. Doesn't make it suck any fucking less for me."
"You think we'd leave you behind?"
He shrugs. "Aren't you already? I didn't even know the two of you weren't already sleeping together. I found her birth control and it just hit me that you two are already moving on while I'm still stuck here. We aren't a trio anymore. It's the two of you against the world."
Well…shit.
"Things are changing, man," he says with a heavy sigh. "And I'm not ready to face it."
"It doesn't matter what I do with my life or what January does with her life, you'll always be part of us," I tell him, heat in my voice. "You think she'd have it any other way? Or that I would? Even if you hated me for being with her, I'd still love you and so would she. We'd still want our lives all mixed up together like they always have been. That's how this shit with the three of us works."
"Not any longer, brother," he says, a sad frown twisting at his lips.
"Titan, I–"
"Cade!" January cries, panic in her voice.
I whip my head around to see her racing down the steps toward me, my cellphone in her hand and tears in her eyes. Titan hops down off the hood of my car as she barrels toward me.
"It's Ma Lucia," she says, out of breath when she reaches me. She thrusts my phone and car keys into my hand. "It's bad. You gotta get to the hospital." Tears pour down her face. She doesn't even try to wipe them away as she grabs my hand, holding onto me as tightly as she can. "She doesn't have long, Cade."
My heart clenches in a painful vise. I knew this was coming, but like Titan, I'm not ready to face my life changing like this.
How do you say goodbye to the woman who stepped in when she didn't have to do it and gave you a family when you had none? How do you say thank you to a saint? There are no words adequate enough to express my gratitude and love for this little old lady who gave up so much just so I could have something.
I cling to January, fighting like hell to keep my composure. I have to be strong for her. That's my job now. To be her rock and love her until I take my last breath.
"I'll drive," Titan says, snatching the keys from my hand. "Get in."
"Thank you," I whisper roughly, clearing my throat.
"Come here, sweet boy," Ma Lucia says, her voice weak and her words slurred. One side of her face droops like it's frozen. Her doctor says she had a stroke a few days ago. Now her blood sugar is rising and her blood pressure keeps dropping dangerously low. They can't get either to stabilize. Most of what they said after that was nonsensical doctor talk I'm half sure they use to make us plebeians feel like they must know what they're talking about even when they don't have a clue. At the end of the day, it all means the same thing. Ma Lucia is dying. Not slowly or bit by bit, but here and now. By the time the sun rises tomorrow, she'll be gone.
I shuffle toward her bed, hating how frail she looks in that thing. Her usually supple mahogany skin is pale and gaunt. The hair she always took such pride in and had done weekly is flat and lifeless. She can't move the left side of her body without assistance.
I hate everything about this.
She tries to smile at me, but it seems more like a grimace of pain.
I take her hand in mine and sink down into the chair beside her.
"Sweet boy," she slurs and squeezes my fingers weakly. Her fingers barely even flutter around mine. "Your mama would be s-s-so proud of you. You've grown into an incredible young m-man."