Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 129460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 518(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 518(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
Before I can assure him the spark blinded me for years, Serenity asks, “Caleb and Octavia?” She appears utterly lost.
“Friends of mine,” I reply at the same time Fitz says, “Associates of Jack.”
“Jack Carson?” When I nod, Serenity’s expression turns sorrow-filled. “Did you hear what happened to his niece? Such a terrible thing to occur.”
Fitz is quick to shut down our conversation, proving his loyalty still lies with Jack. “We better get going. We’re late for our appointment.”
With Fitz leading Serenity away from me like he’s her bodyguard and I am the annoying paparazzi, she farewells me with a wave before shouting over the foot traffic between us. “I’ll text you the details of my bachelorette party next week.”
While I return her wave, I nod, so grateful she’s a part of society again not to care about Fitz keeping me in the dark or the late notice of her invitation.
I’m a journalist. I have a way of forcing people to face the truth. But since I’d rather use my skills to stop world hunger and global warming, I pull my phone out purely for personal reasons.
I almost text Octavia until I realize her wounds are still fresh, so instead, I scroll back to the C’s and act like the recipient of my text didn’t break my heart only three short months ago.
CHAPTER 50
CALEB
Do you know how many times people have said to me that I can’t mend anyone if I’m broken myself? It was a lot—almost a daily occurrence during the counseling sessions Octavia attended after her mother claimed her own life, and bi-weekly in the sessions I’ve been attending since I returned to Jersey three months ago.
Over the past month, I realized they were wrong.
I’m still a broken man, and I hate myself more than ever since I ran from the one person who knew me better than anyone, but you can still be a good person despite the sharpness of the shards holding you together.
Jake is as scared of public restrooms as me. He wets the bed almost every day, but the simplest things are helping him step out of the shadows, and they’re all things I wouldn’t have considered if I hadn’t been through what I’d been through.
My pain is lessening someone else’s. That, in itself, almost makes it bearable.
“Are you hitting it, Jake?” I press my ear to the toilet door before asking, “It should be spinning like a Ferris wheel. Four spins is the record. If you get five, I’ll crack a hundred and buy you that Lego set you’ve been eyeing the past month.”
A rare smile pulls at my lips when the faintest “Two” sounds from the bathroom of Alexander House.
Jake loves Lego, so much so he will set aside his fear of bathrooms to pee on a ping-pong ball for five rotations to get the latest set.
Alexander House is the brainchild of Octavia. The day I followed Jess to Portland, I thought Octavia was going to spend the day in bed, commiserating a relationship that should have never been. I didn’t think she’d go through our family records like the solution for our fucked-up lives was in even more fucked-up papers.
I’ve often said nothing good would come from the paperwork lawyers wouldn’t let us part with. Octavia proved me wrong.
With the funds left to us by our grandfather, we purchased a run-down house in New Jersey, did a handful of renovations to bring it up to code, then commenced a halfway house for abused children and teens who don’t want to bottle up their emotions for decades before unleashing them on the wrong people.
They want to learn how to control their anger and that not everyone is out to get them.
And they are lessons I am learning with them.
Three months ago, I thought I had started the process myself. Usually, I freeze in fear when matters of my past are brought to the forefront of my mind. I reacted how I did when I was abused by my grandfather—I didn’t speak a word.
But that changed three months ago.
I stood up for myself and for someone I thought was a victim.
I had no clue that I had been set up until after I saw the smug expression on Warren’s face and learned of his connection with Silas Clastone several weeks after that.
They’d worked together previously, and although Warren wasn’t one of my grandfather’s victims, he helped Silas purely to hinder my relationship with Jess. He taunted me to force a response. He just never anticipated for Jess to react the way she did.
She stood up for me instead of him.
I just wish I hadn’t taken a new zip code and months of counseling to differentiate the variation between her efforts that day and those of the people around her.
If it weren’t for Jake, I’d probably still be in the dark about how much Jess helped me over the years. A look Jess gave me many times over a three-year period is the same look I give Jake when he brings down his soiled bedding every morning to place them in the washing machine instead of hiding them in the closet like I did as a child.