Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Her lip trembles. “You feel so distant lately. Like I’m a bother to be around.”
I take her hand, but my tone is sharp. “I lost both my parents and my sister is severely depressed. My focus is elsewhere.”
She winces as though I’ve struck her. “I know. I’m sorry. When you put it that way, I feel selfish.”
“I just need time to make sure my sister is okay,” I utter and scrub my palm down the side of my face. “Can you give me that?”
She nods and leans forward to kiss me. I offer her my cheek and pat her hand.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” I tell her as she pulls away.
“I love you,” she says tearfully.
“I love you too.”
She climbs out of the car and I wait to make sure she gets in okay. My thoughts are a mess, though.
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
But do I?
I cheated on her, for fuck’s sake.
My relationship with Amy needs to take a back seat. I can ponder on all of it when Rylie is more stable. Right now, she’s my focus. Ry is the only thing I have left.
When I get back, the house is dark. Rylie isn’t in the basement, so I go upstairs looking for her. The light under the bathroom door shines out into the dark hallway, indicating she’s inside. I’m just about to knock and ask if she’s okay when the door opens. With big, sad brown eyes, she stares up at me. Her face is free of makeup. All her freckles are on full display.
“Are you okay?” My voice is husky and raw with emotion. She looks so fucking broken right now.
Water drips from her hair and skates down bare shoulders. It’s then I realize she’s just wearing a towel. Her collarbone protrudes and she’s so pale.
“Have you not been eating?” I demand, motioning at her body.
She glances past me down the hallway. Right. Aunt Becky. The last thing I need is for her to come join an argument about my sister’s weight. She’s vulnerable enough as it is. I grip her wrist and urge her back into the bathroom, closing the door behind me.
“Rylie,” I growl. “Talk to me, dammit.”
Her dark brows furl together. “I’m never hungry.”
I clench my jaw. “You still have to eat.”
She shrugs and it pisses me off.
“Rylie, you still have to eat.”
Her nostrils flare and she gives me a small shove. “Lower your voice. Aunt Becky will be in here forcing food down my throat and God knows what other kind of medicine.”
“Come here,” I grumble, opening my arms.
She steps into my hug and her body relaxes. In her towel, it’s easier to notice how bony she is. It fucking worries me to death.
“I’m going to dry my hair and then go to bed,” she murmurs.
Disappointment floods through me. Where’s the girl from last night? The one who chatted about bands and music?
I pull away and grip her cold biceps. “If you need me, you know where I’ll be.”
She doesn’t answer but pulls away. I let out a heavy sigh and leave her be. After a quick shower downstairs in the basement, I pull on some basketball shorts and flick off the lights. I lie down on the couch and stare up at the ceiling in the darkness. The basement has no windows, which is nice when you want to sleep in but right now, I feel trapped. Closed in. Hopeless.
“I can’t sleep,” a soft voice whispers.
“Me neither.”
I don’t have to tell her to come because she’s already crawling on top of me, seeking my comfort. I drag the blanket over us and stroke her still warm now dry hair. I’m hyperaware that I’m only wearing a pair of shorts. Whatever she’s wearing feels thin. A pair of sleep shorts and a tank top maybe. Through her clothes, her bony ribs dig into me as she situates herself. My heart aches.
“Is this normal?” she asks, her voice barely audible.
“What?”
Her palm slides up my bare chest and her fingers flit along my jaw. Then, her thumb rubs across my bottom lip.
“I don’t know,” I lie. It’s far from normal. I’m pretty sure if Amy or Aunt Becky saw the way we’ve been cuddling at night, they might have something to say about it.
But why?
We’re not doing anything wrong.
Right?
“Normal is overrated,” she murmurs, her hot breath tickling my chest.
I run my fingertips down her spine over her shirt and then settle my palm on her lower back. Her breathing evens out and soon she’s drooling on my chest as she sleeps. I slide my fingers up and down her back. I’m not sure if I’m soothing her or if it’s soothing me to do this. Either way, I like it. I feel calm for the first time since I’ve been back home for break.
She’s my sister.