Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 71679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
“I’ll wait outside for you,” I tell Kitty. “I’ll keep Leon’s phone on. It’s fully charged. Call me if you get lost or can’t find me or for any other reason.”
“Darby?”
“Yes?”
“It’s going to be okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Thank you.” It’s the sincerest thank you that I’ve ever given anyone, and when I hang up, I actually do feel a slight bit better. Not much, but some. And maybe not better, but calmer. I feel, with Kitty here, we can do this together, and she’ll have answers that tell me how to help her brother.
I sit outside the entire time that I wait. I don’t care that my body goes numb or that the mosquitoes are feasting off me. I barely feel anything. I barely see anything. Nothing registers until the soft gleam of headlights in the distance, then the blinding sweep of them over the yard.
The minute Kitty kills the engine of a silver sedan, I run over to it. She steps out and sweeps me up in her arms like we’ve been friends for a lifetime, not like we just met yesterday because I was fake marrying her brother.
She’s the one who leads me over to the porch and helps me sit down on the edge of the step. There are lawn chairs out here, but neither of us takes them. I don’t know what to say or how to start. It’s not that I feel numb, but I think I might still be in shock from the crazy amount of worry.
“Is he covered in puke in there?” Kitty asks me, somehow keeping her tone light.
“No. I—he’s not.”
“Okay, well, that’s a big improvement.”
I shudder. I’m usually not squeamish with that kind of thing. I have a really strong stomach, but I was in pain watching Leon be sick. It looked so awful.
Kitty sighs. “I don’t know much about it. You might think that’s weird, but he won’t tell me. Not a thing.” I’m surprised, but honestly, with Leon, I can see it. It’s like he’s tried to erect walls between himself and the rest of the world, where the less they know about him, the better. They can assume whatever they want, and it’s almost like he’d prefer that. “The only reason I know is that it happened once at my house. There was no warning. Or maybe there was, and he thought he could power through it. He would never say. My brother is very private, and he doesn’t let anyone in. Not to that. That’s his own private hell, if I’m going to be cliché, but it’s the best way to describe it. The puking thing…he was at my place, and he just…there was an epic amount of puke. Sometimes projectile. It was so bad. I had no idea what was happening. I guess that’s what a bunch of concussions will do to you, though.”
“Concussions? Like from contact sports?”
Kitty winces, and the shadows on her face seem like real demons leaping out of the darkness. I can’t help but shudder. “You could say that. It was from contact, and that sick fuck probably thought it was sport.” Kitty swallows hard and won’t look at me. Instead, her face is turned to the beach and dock. The lake is easy, black under the full moon. “There’s no rest with that level of pain.” Another swallow. “The fact that you’re still here says a lot about your fortitude.”
“But this is my cabin. Well, my grandparents’ and then my parents’ after them, but I wouldn’t go anywhere.”
“I see.”
“And he’s my husband.”
“We both know it’s not real.”
I might be falling for him. Oh my god, it might even have started a long time ago.
“Did he chase you outside?” Kitty asks.
“He’s totally incapacitated. He did tell me to go for a walk, but I wouldn’t do it.”
Kitty scrubs both her hands over her face. I want to do the same, but I don’t move. “He’s more than just…Everyone sees the pain. That’s all they see. He never lets anyone know, so they think he’s this huge heartless grump, but I’ve never met anyone with more love and kindness to give. He saved my mom and me. That was the price of us leaving.”
My heart feels like it’s being squeezed in some unholy kind of fist. “What was?”
“He was. And he chose to stay so that we’d be safe. My father—if you can use that term for a man like him—beat the shit out of him. When he was old enough, he’d fight back to keep my mom and me safe, but our father liked that even more. He wanted to beat the goodness and the life and the weakness out of my brother. What’s going on in there…that’s the result of it.”
“But there…there must be painkillers. Or prescription medication. Something. Someone has to be able to do something. He can’t just…just live like that.”