Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 98992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Doc grunts out the statement I didn’t, “It bruised.”
“Bad.” I give a small rub to my sniffling nose knowing I don’t deserve to have these tears. “Pres is um… anemic. She’s got an iron deficiency thing, and sometimes when she forgets to take her supplements, she bruises a lot easier. That was one of those times. She had these deep marks around her upper arm and wrist and instead of turning me in, ratting on me, screaming from the rooftops what a fuck up I was, what a joke and disappointment I had become, she fucking covered for me. Told everyone she’d knocked around into shit while putting up and taking down spirit club crap. She was known for bumping into shit sometimes and the bruising easy thing was pretty common knowledge, so people just bought it. Her parents included.”
“Why do you think she did that for you?” Doc challenges in an even tone. “What makes you think she didn’t do that shit for herself? Protect herself from being embarrassed over the fact that she let her fucked up ex-boyfriend put his hands on her?”
“Because the next morning…I got up early – we slept in separate rooms that night-” I pause to not only remove the candy stick but to tell the whole truth, “okay, she slept in a room she locked herself in and I slept against the door…” The stand in nicotine object gets ashed to help keep my stare from meeting his. “I got up early and volunteered to go get her breakfast so that we could at least have that together. The two of us sat alone out by the pool a bit later and ate. I apologized again and again, told her I’d been going through some shit, promised I’d never touch her like that again, that I’d lay off the harder shit, and she swore to me no one would ever know. That that wasn’t the real me. That she’d always protect her Ry the same way her Ry would never hurt his Pres.”
“She should’ve pressed fucking charges.”
The lump in my throat expands prior to my glare meeting his.
“She should’ve sent your ass to jail for attempted assault.”
He’s right.
And fuck me, do I hate that he’s right.
“She should’ve ruined your goddamn reputation. Ran it into the fucking ground. Won your little adolescent war and be crowned victor for all to bow down to.”
I swallow the bitter truth I’ve choked down several times.
Had she put my ass in check that very minute…had she done those things I fucking deserved instead of forgiveness I didn’t…my life might’ve turned out differently.
Our lives may have ended up on the same path instead of separate ones.
“What the fuck was so special about you that she didn’t?”
Another tear hits my cheek. “I don’t know.”
“Figure it the fuck out, Collins,” Doc demands at the same time he clicks his pen. “You know what made her special. You know that shit to your core. Figure out the counter. Figure out what you brought to that table that made her stay. Because believe it or not, while you’ve built her into a goddess capable of doing damn near no fucking wrong, she held you in a similar fucking light. Figure out why, what she loved about you, what made her crave you and only you, and then use that as the foundation to begin to rebuild your depleted self-esteem.”
The chalk substitute is banished to the floor.
“You have good qualities about you, Collins. You just need to remember what they are, just like you need to remember that your past doesn’t have to dictate or destroy your future. If you use it correctly, it can do the fucking opposite. It can inspire and change it. However, that choice is yours. Every choice you do or don’t make, Collins, is fucking yours.”
Chapter 6
Presley
Theory 3: Love Can Push Your Morals
--
“Hi you!” I enthusiastically greet as I throw my backpack into the backseat of Ry’s car that’s parked at our favorite secret meeting spot.
“Hey you,” he lovingly beams back, stare growing brighter by the passing second.
“Where exactly are we going?”
“Ooo, that’s classified information,” Ry insists on a playful cringe. “Not sure you have that level of clearance.”
“Oh yeah, Jason Bourne?” my teasing back regarding what he was watching at home last night while I was studying for an advanced chem exam is well received since he loudly laughs. “I’m pretty sure I do.”
“Gonna need to see it.”
“How about since I forgot my badge-”
“What a terrible agent.”
“-that I give you the secret passcode instead?”
He releases a loud, comical sigh. “Fine. I will allow it this one time, Agent Pres, but don’t make this a habit.”
Leaning over, I sweetly knock my lips against his.
Ry happily moans as if this is the one thing he’s been waiting for all damn day.