Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 111742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
“What do you know?” Carter demands. His blue eyes are nothing like Cole’s, which telegraph his every thought and emotion, at least to me. Carter’s gaze is cold, calculating, and vaguely threatening.
I bite my cheeks, literally suck them in fishie-style and bite down on them to keep from speaking. My default mode is full-ramble, and that’s not what I should do right now. I can nudge, I can encourage, I can highlight Cole’s awesomeness, but anything Cole tells or doesn’t tell his family is his choice to make, not mine.
So I shake my head, begging them with my eyes not to ask again.
Surprisingly, it’s Luna who backs me up. “Leave her alone. Her loyalty’s to Cole, not you, and rightfully so. If you want to fix things with your brother, that’s your responsibility, and Janey’s not a shortcut to figuring him out.”
“Fix things with him? You mean he needs to fix things with us,” Cameron counters.
Luna shrugs as she sadly declares, “Sounds like nothing’s getting fixed, then.”
I think my plan Cole: Recognize the Awesomeness just took a sharp nosedive into the failure zone.
CHAPTER 22
COLE
“Kayla!” I shout down the hall, but she doesn’t turn around. In fact, I think she walks faster, trying to get away from me.
Going so far as to enter an office, she tries to shut the door in my face, but I push back, forcing my way in. “What the fuck?” I mutter as she finally gives in.
She whirls away so I can’t see her face, and though her back is ramrod straight, I have the sense that she’s hiding tears from me. “Kayla?” I say, quietly this time.
“Just leave me be, Cole. It’s fine. Give me a few minutes. I’ll be back.” Her speech is stilted and nasally. Clearly, she’s crying or on the verge of tears.
“I didn’t know,” I confess. It’s only a few words, and to some, it might seem like the barest of revelations, but to me? It’s significant.
Kayla spins around, her eyes bloodshot and glittery but filled with fire. “You didn’t know what? That we all talk about you, comparing notes on who talked to you last or saw you last because we’re worried about you? That every time there’s a plane crash, shooting, natural disaster, or anything tragic in the whole world, we’re terrified that you’re there because we have no idea where you are or what you’re doing . . . ever?” She’s pacing back and forth across the room, her voice getting louder and more hostile with every lap.
“Or how many times Mom has called ‘mandatory dinners’ over stupid shit so we can lay eyes on you as proof of life? That Cameron doesn’t tell Gracie you’ll be at her school events because he doesn’t trust you’ll actually come and the last thing that little girl needs is another adult in her life who doesn’t show the fuck up when they’re supposed to?”
She pivots, making another trip back across the room. “Or that we hate that you keep yourself apart from the rest of us like we’re not worth your oh-so-valuable time? That we tell each other all kinds of stuff, but you don’t trust us with anything? I don’t even know where you live, for fuck’s sake. Janey FBI-ed that info, and I wanted to scratch her eyes out for it because you let her in, but not any of us.”
I try to speak, but she cuts me off. “I’m not mad at her for it. I’m glad, actually! Because I want you to have someone who makes you happy, even if it’s not us. But selfishly, I want my brother. I want us.” She waves a hand around wildly, indicating me and her, and all the rest of my siblings back in the reception. “We all do. Except you.”
Her every word is a stab to my heart. I didn’t know . . . any of that. I thought they didn’t care whether I was there or not, if they talked to me or not, even if I existed or not. I had no idea they were watching the news and comparing notes, tracking me down, and protecting my beloved niece from me.
I shake my head, trying to make sense of everything I’ve always thought with what Kayla’s saying now.
Kayla gives me point-two seconds to process, and when I don’t spill my guts, she strides toward the door, shoulder bumping past me. “Fucking asshole.”
“Wait.”
To my surprise, she does.
Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised, though. That’s the problem. Kayla’s always been there for me. I just thought it was begrudgingly so. Maybe that’s not the case and I only felt that way because of my own misguided perceptions.
“I didn’t know any of that,” I start. It’s harder than I imagined to say actual words to explain the chaos I’m feeling.
She huffs and mutters, “Idiot.”