Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79036 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79036 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
“Fuck you, Dusty. And fuck you too, Rhett. The two of you can have each other.”
He starts walking away. I reach out and grab his arm, but Morgan pulls free. “I can’t do this with you. Don’t talk to me. Don’t follow me. You chose him.”
Morgan leaves us standing there alone.
The hole inside me grows. “Fuck!” I shout until my throat is on fire again. “Why the hell did you kiss me?”
“You kissed me.” Rhett wipes the blood from his mouth and stands. “I’m not… I haven’t… I’m not into guys.”
Did I kiss him first? Hell, I don’t even know. Does it even matter?
“I’m not him,” Rhett adds, looking away.
My world spins, feels like the ground is disappearing from beneath me. “I know,” I snap. “We’re not like that. He’s my best friend.”
“So that’s me you wanted to kiss just now?”
I look away because it wasn’t. We both know I was kissing Morgan.
“Why did you kiss me back? You said you’re not even queer.”
“We both know why.”
Rhett hadn’t been lying. For a moment, just a moment, he wanted to want me because he knew it would hurt Morgan. And I’d kissed Rhett because I couldn’t have Morgan. The Swifts weren’t the only ones who were a mess.
“What’s wrong with me? I can’t… I gotta go.”
“Rhett!” I call out as he walks away. I say his name again, but he doesn’t answer, and I don’t follow.
I try to tell myself it doesn’t matter. That it was one stupid moment and didn’t mean anything.
Tears spring to my eyes as I fall against the lighthouse again, crying and drinking until my world goes black. I wake up with the sun high in the sky the next morning, the night before pummeling me.
The first thing I do is lose everything in my gut, bend over and just vomit it all out right there.
Then I run…I’m sweaty, chest tight, breaths fighting to get out of my lungs when I stumble onto the Swifts’ porch. Rhett is sitting on the swing at the end, recently showered and dressed, with a fat lip and a black eye.
“He’s gone,” Rhett says.
“Where did he go?”
“He left for California early.”
My legs give out, my body collapsing to the porch. Rhett sighs, walks over, and sits beside me. “We fucked up.”
“You can say that again.”
“You’re in love with him?” Rhett asks, but he knows the answer. “He’ll get over it. He’ll stop being a big fucking baby and get everything he wants because that’s how life works for him.”
But I know Morgan better than that, know he won’t forget what he saw, and it will become something else that haunts him for the rest of his life.
CHAPTER THREE
Morgan
I know the drive like the back of my hand.
My suitcases are in the back because I knew if I didn’t go ahead and check out of my room, I would find an excuse not to.
Every dip in the road is a blend of memories and dread, until I’m turning down the driveway that leads around the side of the home I lived in most of my life.
It looks just like it always did—a two-story, white house with columns on the large porch that’s not quite a wraparound but runs the length of most of the front. There’s gray stonework accents, the yard the perfect shade of summer green, leading down to the short dock for lake access. It’s like a dream, the kind of place that from the outside looks like nothing bad has ever happened here, but the inside of my head tells a different story.
I get out, the scent of fresh water teasing my nose as I make my way to the door of the place I swore I would never see again.
The stairs creak, which surprises me. I can’t believe Dad allows the slight imperfection to stay. There’s a swing hanging from the end of the porch—not the same one Mom used to sit on. When it got too old, he replaced it, but though he doesn’t use it, he always makes sure there is one there.
My arm feels like it’s made of lead when I lift it and knock on the door.
A frown pulls at my lips when a short, white woman I don’t recognize answers. Jesus, had there been another car out there? I hadn’t even noticed.
When I take in her scrubs, it all makes sense.
“You must be Morgan. Your dad is looking forward to seeing you. I’m Rosie, the home health nurse. I come in twice a week.”
I hold my hand out for her, and she shakes it. “Nice to meet you.”
At a shuffling behind her, I look over her shoulder to see my dad. I can tell there’s a slight difference in how his left arm hangs compared to his right, but other than that he looks like he always has…only older, of course, with more gray mixed into his black hair. It’s freshly cut because Dad won’t have it any other way. He’s wearing a black polo shirt, khaki pants, and has his cell phone in his grip.