Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
“Let me guess.” Jenna holds up her hands dramatically, doing a really fantastic imitation of Mary’s uppity voice defending her son. “Oh, Emory… I’m sure you’re worrying for nothing.”
I can’t help but snicker. That was Mary’s classic answer to all my worries about Shane. She’s a parent that cannot see through the veneer to the problems below. While she always supported him through rehab, she never really felt his problems were severe enough to warrant it. She was always willing to just believe this was a minor issue. The main reason Mary never gave Shane’s addictions much credence was because she thought it reflected poorly on her and the family name.
“I should have known better,” I mutter before taking another sip of my beer and leaning back into the cushions. I rest the bottle on my belly and pick at the label that’s wet with condensation. “I had actually started to trust him. Trust that he really wanted to be a part of Felicity’s life and was ready to get his own in order.”
“There’s nothing wrong with having hope,” Jenna assures me. “Believing people can be better.”
My eyes slide over to meet hers. “Jett said that to me about Shane when I wasn’t willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. Same exact words. It’s okay to hope it will be okay.”
“It’s good advice,” Jenna says with a pointed nod at me.
I widen my eyes with innocence. “What? I do have hope it will be okay. I hope that Shane is fine and that he and Felicity can have a relationship, and that when—”
“Just stop,” Jenna says, showing me the palm of her hand. “You don’t hope that, because in your heart of hearts, you’ve already written Shane off. You’re just trying to do the right thing for Felicity by giving her access to her dad as appropriate. Clearly, the question is, is it appropriate anymore? When I say it’s okay to hope for it to be okay, and Jett says the same, we mean it’s okay to hope for the best but we also mean it’s okay to be prepared for the worst.”
“I am prepared for the worst,” I assure her. “I had hoped it would work out with Shane and Felicity, but I’m not surprised it hasn’t, and not sure it will again.”
“And that’s understandable,” my sister reassures me. “Just don’t let it close you off to the possibility of it again. Shane may very well be in and out of rehab Felicity’s entire life. It’s a horrible potential for her life. But you can always hope that it will be okay, and then surround her with so much love and stability in case it isn’t.”
My sister is younger than me, but she isn’t immature in her wisdom. She’s been through so much pain and has battled things far harder than I have, and I always take her advice to heart. I hear her, I’m just not feeling all that hopeful or benevolent these days where Shane is concerned.
But I don’t want to argue with her. She might say it’s okay to hope for things to be okay, but I think it’s okay for me to assume they won’t be and plan from there. It’s called protecting my child—and myself—from future pain.
“Let’s talk about something else,” I say and to show her that I’m not bothered by any of this, I reach forward and set my beer on the table, taking my pizza slice in hand again.
“Let’s talk about Jett,” Jenna says with an almost lewd smile on her face. “Hasn’t he turned out to be quite the burning hunk of surprise?”
I roll my eyes at my sister, but I get what she means. “He definitely isn’t what I thought he’d be.”
“I’m glad you gave him a chance,” she says, ignoring her pizza for the time being and crossing her legs Indian style as she settles back into her chair. “What he did for Felicity last night was really sweet.”
“Mmm,” I hum low in my throat, a concurrence of sorts.
She frowns at me. “You don’t think what he did was sweet?”
“I think it was too sweet,” I reply candidly. Because I’ve been thinking about that moment he walked into the gym. I caught sight of him and had this major realization wash through me that he’s the one I could lose my heart to like no other.
“Why is that a problem?” she asks, head tilted.
“I’m afraid to get hurt again,” I tell her honestly. Jenna is one I’d never hide my feelings from.
I couldn’t.
Not when I’d sat by her as she recovered from her horrible burns and accepted every wretched truth that came out of her mouth. It tore my soul to hear how much she was hurting, how much she wanted the pain to end, and how she thought her life was over. Jenna was truthful with me—not our parents—about her darkest thoughts and because of that, I will always be honest with her.