Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 64337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
“A wart could always be removed,” I say, addressing the easy part of all that.
“Okay, then it’s not a wart. It’s a hematoma, and it’s all tangled up with your nervous system. They can’t remove it or you’ll be paralyzed from the neck down, so you have to keep it. Right there on your shoulder, huge and gross, like a creepy, puss-filled second head.”
My upper lip curls. “Gross.”
“Damn straight,” she agrees, uncrossing her legs and rising to her feet. “It would be disgusting, but it wouldn’t make me leave you. I’d draw a smiley face on it, name it Athena, and kiss it goodnight when we got into bed.”
My nose wrinkles along with my lip. “I don’t want that for you. Or me.”
“Well, tough shit. That’s what you’re getting. Turns out, I’m even more loyal than I thought. Once I fall in love, that’s it. There’s no undoing it.” She reaches down, gathering several of the sheets of paper from the couch and coffee table in front of her. “That’s why I made you a list.”
I arch a brow. “A list?”
“Yes, a list of all the reasons I’m not good enough for you,” she says, rifling through them until she finds what she’s looking for. “Number one, when I was a freshman in high school, I cheated on all my history quizzes. My friend, Wendell, would tip his paper so I could see his choices, and I blatantly copied and took my B+ like I deserved it. And I didn’t thank him for the help nearly as much as I should have.”
My lips twitch. “Terrible.”
“I know. But don’t worry, it gets worse,” she agrees, tossing the first sheet into the air. As it flutters to the ground, she reads from the second one, “When I was five and Wendy Ann was two, I carried her up to the treehouse and left her there. Because I was annoyed with her for always following me around, and I knew she couldn’t get down on her own. And yes, I was pretty sure, at five, that she was too much of a scaredy cat to try the ladder, but I could have been wrong. I could have killed my little sister.”
“You were five,” I say. “It wasn’t your responsibility to keep your little sister safe. Someone should have been watching Wendy Ann. And you. An adult. I never left Sprout alone outside unsupervised until last summer, and even then, only for a little while.”
Binx’s lips hook into a humorless grin. “Yeah, well, that’s not how the McGuires did things. I’m sure one of my brothers was supposed to be watching us, but went to go play basketball instead. We had too many kids for Mom to keep up with all of us, and Dad was at the store working most of the time.”
“So, I’m a better parent than your mother?” I tease. “Is that what you’re saying?”
Her brow furrows even as her gaze softens. “Yes! So much better. Don’t you dare let her get into your head about taking a few days away from Sprout. Parents need vacations and time away from their kids. There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s healthy for everyone.”
“I know,” I say. “But she’s not wrong about everything. I have a reputation in this town. Whether it’s deserved or not doesn’t really matter. I’m always going to be defined by my mistakes, and if you were with me, you would be, too.”
“I don’t care,” she says without a beat of hesitation. “Not even a little bit. You know why? Because I’ve done way worse things than drive a getaway car. I just didn’t get caught.” She pulls in a breath and her throat works as she swallows, making me think this is a more serious confession than the other two. “But I’ve never told this to anyone. Never. I don’t even like to think about it in my own head. Every time the memory comes up, I shove it way down and pretend it didn’t happen. But it did and…if people in Bad Dog knew, if my family knew, they would think I was the bad influence.”
I nod slowly, my brows inching closer together as I study her face. She’s pale and there’s sweat breaking out on her lip despite the chill in the cabin. “You don’t have to tell me,” I assure her. “We all have things we’re ashamed of that we keep to ourselves. That’s totally normal.”
She gives a quick shake of her head. “No. I want to. I’m going to. I just…” She swallows again. “I just need you to turn around. I can’t say it to your face, but I’m pretty sure I can say it to your back.” I start to protest, but she breaks in, “Please, just…turn around. You owe me that much for bailing on me outside with Mom and Wendy Ann.”