Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
“Don’t forget, she was already stressed out about those bodies going missing.” He rubs his jaw, groaning. “I mean, no wonder she freaked out. She has so much on her mind, and I can’t convince her to relax.”
“Yeah, I guess we didn’t help things. You know her better than I do now. What should we do?”
“We have to be gentle with her.” I don’t mean to frown when he says it, but at least he chuckles. “I know. I’m not good at being gentle, either. But it’s what she needs.”
“But what about later, in the future? She’s seeing a therapist, right?”
“Yeah, that’s where she was leaving when those assholes took her.” The growl in his voice is nothing compared to the heat that explodes in my chest when I remember watching from across the street, feeling helpless and useless. “But there’s gotta be stuff we can do for her here, at home. Just so she’ll feel more secure.”
I have to say it. “You really do love her, don’t you?”
“What, did you think I was lying?”
“No, I’m just saying you’re obviously out for whatever is best for her. That’s good to see.”
“What about you?”
The microwave couldn’t beep at a better time. Talk about a loaded question. Where do I even start trying to answer? I have to search my feelings, not something I usually like to do. But I know him—if I try to shrug off the question, he’ll only double down until I have to answer him or kill him.
“I care about her,” I decide by the time he slides a plastic container of steaming mac and cheese in front of me. At least stirring it around to cool it off gives me something to do while I try not to choke on my words. “I mean, obviously. Why else would I stay away to protect her if I didn’t care?”
“Then you’ll help me try to get her through this?”
Shit. Dropping the fork, I hit him with a stare that makes him snicker. “So that’s how it is? You’re going to use her to get me to stay? When I just got done telling you, she’s a big part of the reason I was hiding?”
“You can handle it. You’re Nix fucking Alistair. And look what you already did. You escaped the fire, you snuck out of the hospital before anybody could figure out who you were, you found a way to make yourself untraceable. So what, you can’t learn how to be a better person? I don’t believe that.”
But all he did was take me back to the question—the fear—at the center of everything. “What if there’s no way to control this? Would you ask a cancer patient to control their tumor with like, positive thinking?”
“I think you’re taking it too far.”
“I don’t think I am.” Since I can’t stab him, I stab some of the noodles with my fork, not that it helps. “Look at where we came from. He was obviously seriously fucked in the head. What if there’s no way to change? What if this is who we are, and that’s it?”
“What if it’s not? What if we can decide who we are? Besides,” he continues before I can say a word, “we didn’t only come from Dad, did we? There was somebody else. We came from Mom, too, and she’s a good person.”
It’s funny. I want to be annoyed with him for being right, but I can’t when his words actually make me feel a little better. “I didn’t think about it that way.”
“I didn’t think you would. That’s why I’m here to do the thinking for you.”
That, I would always expect from him. “Okay, since you have all the answers, what comes next? Where do we go from here?”
“Keep going like everything’s normal,” he decides, eating slowly, thoughtfully. “Give her space, be gentle with her.”
“Me, gentle?” I know we’ve been talking about learning how to be different, but that seems like a lot to ask.
“You’ll get the hang of it.” He smirks. “I’m here if you need help getting your shit together. Sort of like one of those sponsors in AA. You’re feeling weak, come to me.”
I’m about to laugh at him when he pulls out the big guns. “And if that doesn’t work, just ask yourself what Mom would think.”
Well, shit. “Better than a cold shower, I bet,” I murmur.
“I bet it is.” Sounds like he’s joking, but there’s intensity in his eyes, boring holes through me. “You can do it. We both can.”
I know he’s right… even if it doesn’t quite feel that way. Even if I doubt myself.
22
COLT
Here goes nothing.
After tapping on the bedroom door with my foot, I swing it open, smiling like I didn’t watch the girl I love break down sobbing last night. “Good morning.”
“What is this?” Leni sits up in bed, blinking hard and covering her mouth with one hand before she yawns. “God, what time is it?” she asks, rubbing her eyes.