Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 86199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
My hand freezes midway back to the table. Deflecting the question, I say, “There didn’t seem to be much point in staying. Plus, you were busy sucking that girl’s face.”
He rolls his eyes. “Please.”
Before he can fire off any more questions, Lola stops by. “I suppose you two want the usual?”
“Sounds good,” River says with a lazy grin.
“Yes, please,” I add.
“You still with your boyfriend?” he asks.
“Yup.” She gives him a sweet smile before pointing to Asher. “I’ll be sure to tell him you said hello.”
River glances at the muscular football player who looks like he could bench press a small vehicle with ease. When the other guy glares, River lifts his hand in a wave.
A chuckle escapes from Lola as she disappears through the crowd.
“Umm, excuse me… What happened to you not wanting a girlfriend?”
He flashes a cocky smile. “Who knows? Maybe the right one could persuade me.”
That’s doubtful.
“I’m beginning to think you’re the one who’ll have to do the persuading.”
“That’s not very nice.”
I jerk my shoulders. “Maybe not, but it’s the truth.”
“Funny…you sound just like Mom.”
Eyes flaring wide, I stab a finger in his direction. “You take that back.”
“I’ll be sure to tell her you said that.”
“Better not, or this will be the last lunch we have together.”
When his lips tremble and his shoulders shake, mine do the same. This is the way it always is between us. We’re the best of friends. Even when we’re bickering. Our bond is one that can never be broken.
Less than ten minutes later, our taco platters arrive and we dig in. River eats with gusto. Kind of like he spent a month on that reality show Survivor and was finally voted off the island. I take my time, knowing that whatever I don’t finish, which will be most of it, my brother will end up devouring. I can’t think of one time when we walked out with a doggie bag.
Once I tap out, he spears his fork at my plate. “Are you done with that?”
“Yup.” I slide the platter filled with rice, beans, and chicken-stuffed tacos his way before picking up my glass of water. A few drops dribble from the corner of my mouth onto my V-neck shirt.
With a smirk, River shakes his blond head. “Seriously, sis. I can’t take you anywhere.”
When I blot at the thin material with the napkin, his brow furrows.
“Where’s your necklace?”
I gulp as my fingers sweep against my collarbone. I feel naked without the silver chain and the little pendant resting against my skin.
I drop my gaze and continue blotting. There’s no way I can lie to my brother while holding his steady stare. He’ll see the fib written across my face within seconds of it leaving my lips. “I took it off before showering this morning and must have forgotten to put it back on.”
There’s a second or two of silence that has my heart exploding into double time.
“I didn’t think you ever took it off.”
With a forced smile, I attempt to keep the panic from invading my voice. “I usually don’t. As soon as I get home, I’ll put it back on.”
His brow remains creased as his tone dips. “I gave it to you right after you were diagnosed.”
A thick lump of emotion swells in my throat, making it impossible to breathe. “I remember.”
When a faraway look clouds his blue eyes, I realize that he’s mentally tripping down that painful path again. I was diagnosed at age sixteen with Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia, and sometimes I think it was harder on my family than it was on me. Or maybe it just felt that way because I was forced to put on a brave face in front of them so they wouldn’t worry more than necessary.
Most nights, River would crawl into my bed. Sometimes, when he thought I was sleeping, his breathing would grow choppy. It would be impossible not to remember the sound of him trying to choke back his sobs.
We’re twins.
There’s never been a time when I haven’t been finely attuned to both his thoughts and feelings. More often than not, I experience them as if they were my own.
And vice versa.
It’s the reason I can never stay angry with him for long. I might not like what he’s doing, but I understand the reason for it and that his response comes from a loving place.
He doesn’t want me to get hurt.
I just wish he’d recognize when he’s the one who’s causing me pain.
“You know that I’m fine, right?” I murmur, wanting to draw his attention away from the past. “I’ve been in remission for two years.”
He blinks and refocuses on me as his expression remains somber. “I still don’t understand why you felt the need to transfer schools. I liked you being close.”
I bite back the frustrated sigh that sits perched on the tip of my tongue. “Because it was time for me to spread my wings and be more independent.”