Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 131789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
“With my fucking stepbrother.” Resentment heats my blood. “You can’t even keep your story straight. Either it was such a non-issue you didn’t think to tell me, or you lied because you didn’t want me to find out. Which is it, sweetheart?”
She shakes her head in frustration. “We both know that’s not even what you’re mad about. And you’re right, okay?” Shame fills her eyes. “When Fenn told me he lied to you when you asked, I shouldn’t have let him convince me to go along with it. Agreeing to lie was a shitty thing and for that I’m genuinely, sincerely, entirely sorry. And I’ll do whatever it takes to earn your forgiveness. But who I hooked up before you is a non-issue. It’s not like you disclosed the names of every girl you were with before you met me.”
“I don’t give a shit who you sleep with, Sloane. I just don’t want to be related to them.”
She advances on me. “You can shout and stomp around all you like, but I’m not the only one who’s committed a few sins of omission, remember? Wasn’t so long ago you were begging me for a second chance. How’d that go? I forget.”
“I don’t know. Let me fuck your sister and we’ll find out.”
“Hey,” Fenn growls, lunging forward.
Sloane throws herself between us, slapping her palm against Fenn’s chest. “Stop,” she orders. “This isn’t productive.”
Fenn goes still, but he’s glaring at me now.
Sloane turns back to me, taking a deep breath before speaking. “One day. Very soon,” she says between gritted teeth. “You’re going to wish you could take that back.”
“Don’t worry,” I say bitterly. “I already wish I could take it all back.”
With that, I turn on my heel and walk away.
Chapter 47
Fenn
Since RJ implemented the silent treatment in retaliation for my crimes, the vibe in our room has turned decidedly chilly. The guy has hardly peeled his ass from that desk chair in days. He takes every meal at the computer. I roll over in the middle of the night to the perpetual glow of his monitors. Clacking keys echoing in my dreams. He doesn’t so much as grunt at the olive branches I keep extending. I brought him a slice of pie from dinner the other night—it’s still sitting on a stack of textbooks at the foot of his bed. At this point, the lifeforms emerging toward sentience on the pie crust might talk to me before RJ does.
“How about we go a few rounds at the gym?” I offer during a pause in his ferocious typing. It’s been constant for hours. Probably the manifesto they’ll discover after they find my body hanging by a bedsheet out our bedroom window. “Full contact. You can give me your best shot.”
Not even a flinch to the sound of my voice. I’m white noise. Deaf to my entire existence.
“Last chance…”
The typing resumes and I sigh, accepting there will be no breakthroughs this weekend.
Already dressed for the gym, I decide to skip my workout for a walk instead. This place has a way of suffocating you. Living and going to class with the same degenerate assholes every day for months on end takes its toll. My sanity demands I find an occasional reprieve.
ME: Fancy taking the dogs for a walk? I could use some fresh air.
She texts back before I reach the bottom of the stairs.
CASEY: Meet you in 10.
It was a brutal summer, but the deep orange aura of an autumn sun is mild in the late afternoon. I can finally get more than ten steps out of the A/C without my shoes filling with sweat. A slight breeze scatters the first fallen leaves of the season.
Penny and Bo sprint ahead of Casey when we converge on the trail that leads through the woods.
“They’re energetic today,” I say, trying not to look offended when the golden retrievers snub their noses at my outstretched hand.
While they’re perfectly sweet dogs and tolerate most people fine, they’ve never been shy about their utter indifference to me. Casey’s the only person who gets the privilege of their affection and I think they like shoving my face in it.
“Sure, now. Then they’ll be whining for me to carry them home.”
“That’d be something to see.”
“Sure,” she laughs. “I’ll just throw one on each hip like a nanny with twins.”
I chuckle at the image. Of the two Tresscott sisters, Sloane got the athleticism and her dad’s stature. Casey’s petite by comparison. More delicate. But that doesn’t mean fragile, which is something people tend to confuse. More so since the accident.
“You okay?”
The dogs bark until Casey kneels down to offer them treats from a plastic baggy she pulls from her pocket. They body-slam each other to compete for ear scratches.
“Sure. Why?”
“You seem distracted.” She narrows her eyes at me. “Does this have anything to do with why RJ broke up with Sloane?” Now her eyes widen. “Wait. Do you know the real reason he ended it? Because Sloane refuses to talk about it. She said he told her he wasn’t feeling it anymore. Which, if it’s true, is total bullshit. How can he just lose feelings for her out of nowhere? Talk about emotional immaturity.”