Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
“No, I just didn’t want you to feel like I was choosing him over you. We’ll always be us. Walker is just a really good fuck.”
I laughed, knowing Isaac was trying to lighten the mood. If he was thinking of heading back to Georgia, Walker had to be a whole lot more than a good lay.
“You’re in love with Brody too. As crazy as Buckridge is, you like it there. Why are you running? I’ve never seen you run in your life. You’re doing it to protect Brody somehow, aren’t you?”
I closed my eyes, even hearing his name twisted me up. “I’m doing it because I don’t know that I want to be a Mitchell. I don’t know if I fit.” But the truth was, I’d never completely felt like I fit here either. That was why it had been so easy to drop everything and go to Georgia, to decide to stay there. “Fuck, this is such a mess. I don’t even know who I am.” How could I not know that?
I wasn’t a Mitchell, not really. I wasn’t a Sorenson really either.
“Get over yourself, man. A past doesn’t define who you are. You’re Cohen Mitchell, and who that person is has nothing to do with who your family is or who your adoptive family is. You’re you. You’ve spent your life looking for something outside of you—whether it was wondering about your biological family, or trying to find your worth by fitting in with your adoptive family, trying to be who you think they want you to be, when none of that shit matters. You’re not going to find what you’re looking for until you look inside yourself.”
“We stole it!” I shouted, surprising myself. I shoved to my feet and began pacing the room. “We’re thieves. My family not only took part in illegal activities, but they stole the damn recipe. None of that should be mine. It should all be the O’Ralleys’.” And I would make sure to pay them back for that.
“Okay, well, so? That’s shitty that your great-grandpa, or whoever the fuck it was, was a janky-ass thief who stole something a hundred years ago, but that wasn’t you. Sell Mitchell Creek, give the money to the O’Ralleys. Do whatever you have to do to make yourself feel better, but that’s not why you’re running from Brody. You’re running from him because you don’t feel good enough for him and you’re scared of losing him, even if you don’t want to admit it. You’re scared he’ll decide you’re not worth it and walk away because your mom died and your dad didn’t come for you. And I’m sorry, C. You know that. I can’t imagine how it is to feel that way, but as much as I love you, you’re being a coward. That’s not the Cohen I know.”
Without another word, Isaac walked out of the room.
I stood there, unable to move, unable to think, except one thing—he was right. I wasn’t worth Brody screwing up his whole family for, and sooner or later he would realize that.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Brody
We sat on the back patio at breakfast together, most of the family. I could never say the whole family, not when one of its most cherished members couldn’t be there…ever again.
The silence was palpable, broken only by clinking silverware, sips, and chewing. Sounds that were fairly typical were grating on my nerves, as even Mel didn’t attempt to disturb this unnatural quiet.
We’d all pulled away from one another over the past few weeks, a rubber band stretching, but this time I wondered if we’d snap back or break. It was hard to even think about eating without imagining that first dinner date with Cohen…
I wanted to fucking tear him from my thoughts so that this burn in my chest and the constant tears percolating from my eyes would stop. It was something I’d wished with Big Momma too, but hated myself for even thinking it would ever be better to go on without having her in my thoughts.
It was stunning how a person could feel such unbearable emotional agony, the sort that made it feel like your heart was going to explode, but then kept you right on going all the same.
“Can someone pass me the butter?” Big Daddy asked, like everything wasn’t wrong and like he didn’t know goddamn well that the butter was right next to me.
I understood why my siblings were on edge around me at the moment, but even Big Daddy had started acting strange, to the point where I had to wonder if any of them had blabbed on me like when we were kids. He was distant, but also, it was as if he felt guilty about something. I thought maybe it was business-related, but we certainly weren’t worse off than before.