Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 86857 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86857 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
He stared straight ahead, tears streaming down his face.
“I love you,” she whispered. “No matter what … I. Love. You.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
We stay the night in California. Josie doesn’t eat a bite of her dinner, and when I talk, she plasters on the fakest smile and nods.
“Would you like to take this to go?” the waiter asks her while depositing the bill onto the table.
She shakes her head.
“My dad killed himself.”
Josie glances up at me, a hint of confusion in her expression.
“Two weeks after my parents separated, my mom took a whole bottle of pills.”
Josie’s expression falls flat. She didn’t know that.
My gaze wanders around the restaurant. “We were at school. Luckily, my dad came home late that morning to pack up a few more of his belongings. I remember my mom being in the hospital for several days. Dad told us she had kidney stones.”
Josie nods and whispers, “I remember that.”
“Do you remember when Chad set the neighbor’s house on fire on the Fourth of July?”
She nods again.
I let my gaze land on hers and stay there. “My mom found my brother in the garage. In her car. The car was running.”
More confusion lines her face.
I tap the table a few times. “The garage doors were down.”
Josie flinches. “Colten …”
I chuckle and shake my head. “People in my life try to kill themselves.” Reaching across the table, I take her hand. “I’d like it to stop.”
Her gaze falls to her lap, chin down. When I squeeze her hand, tears race down her cheeks. She releases a quick sob and holds her breath. I’m not trying to hurt her or guilt her. I’m trying to save her, and I’m trying to stop this epic streak of tragedy in my life.
I place money on the table, slide out of the booth, and tuck her next to me as we exit the restaurant.
When we get to the hotel, she doesn’t say a word and neither do I. We kiss. Discard our clothes. And make love like it’s the last time we’re ever going to do it.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me about your brother?” she whispers, her back spooned to my chest a little after midnight.
“It took me a while to figure it out. And when I did, when I overheard my parents talking months later, discussing Chad’s punishment and his therapy … I got the nerve to ask my mom what they were talking about. My dad told her not to tell me, but she did anyway. And she made me promise not to tell anyone, even you. And for some reason, that felt like a secret I needed to keep because she cried the whole time she told me about Chad. I still have that image of them in the garage.”
I kiss her head. “I wanted to tell you. I wanted to tell you when you told me about your mom being raped. I felt guilty for keeping something from you when you told me everything. But I didn’t think Chad’s attempted suicide was going to brighten your day after the news your parents gave you.”
Josie laughs a little, her foot stroking mine. After a few minutes of silence, she maneuvers her body so that she’s facing me. “I feel like I have cancer, and I need to promise everyone that I’m not going to die. At the same time, I feel like the cancer is spreading, and I can’t stop it.” Her fingertips ghost along my lips, tracing them. “I feel like I need to tell adult Colten that I’m going to be fine. But … I think I could have told seventeen-year-old Colten that I’m really fucking scared of the cancer. And I feel like I’m going to disappoint everyone around.”
I kiss the pads of her fingers. “For the record, seventeen-year-old Colten wanted to save you from the unfair and cruel things in his life. He was just too stupid and scared to figure out how to do it.”
“And now?” she whispers.
“And now …” I close my eyes as if I can hide from the truth.
“Say it, Colten. Saying it doesn’t make it any more real. It doesn’t make you a coward. It shows your strength. Don’t ever run from the truth. The truth always wins.”
I open my eyes. “I’m terrified. I feel responsible. I feel out of control. So damn helpless.”
“Responsible? For the shooting?”
I think about that. “Maybe,” I murmur.
“Or do you feel responsible for saving me?”
This is so messed-up. Why should one feel guilty for saving another life? Maybe because I feel like she blames me.
“What would you have done? Had it been me?”
She blinks several times before giggling and rolling onto her back, tossing an arm over her face to hide it. “I would have saved you. I would have done absolutely anything to save you. Risked my own life. Cut the beating heart out of an innocent bystander to give it to you. I would have slayed all the dragons and lit the whole world on fire to save you.”