Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 90564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
It was sex. Guaranteed. And I was always down for a quickie. I shoved my feet into my worn Converse and followed him out into the freezing cold. I was not taking off my clothes outside… “Where are we going?”
His fingers threaded through mine as he tugged me down the porch steps. “Don’t ask questions.”
“Hendrix. It’s you. I’m forever asking myself why.”
Heavy gray clouds hung low in the night sky as he led me to the road. “Well, maybe you shouldn’t question my genius, Lola Cola.”
Not likely.
We turned onto the next street, then headed toward Old Man’s derelict house, our breath fogging in front of our faces.
Our shoes crunched over the frost-covered yard as we rounded the side of the collapsing structure—right to the spot in the woods where our treehouse used to be.
Actually, I blinked, where it now was, faintly lit from within among the blackened branches of the oak tree. “You rebuilt it,” I choked, trying not to cry.
“And you made fun of me for saying sumicks…Yet, here you are, stating the damn obvious.”
I elbowed him in the ribs, and he pulled me a little farther into the tree line.
He’d come out here, a grown-ass man, and rebuilt a kid’s tree house for me. Without even asking. I’d never told him how much it had hurt me when he had burned the old one, but I imagined he knew, the same way he knew everything about me.
Maybe it was stupid, but I was attached to that shabby little treehouse and the dirty little boy who’d made it. I’d mourned the loss of all our messages, our history, although this one looked far sturdier than the old one, with straighter walls and wood that wasn’t rotting.
The chilled air crept over the back of my neck as I watched him climb the rope ladder, then followed him up.
Inside, a pile of blankets sat in the middle of the floor. A string of fairy lights graced the blank walls. Everything was fresh and clean and new. I crawled into the space, then turned on my butt to face him. “When did you do all this?”
“I’m expelled…Reprobates have all the time in the world.” He half-laughed before sitting on the tattered blankets.
“I love it, Hendrix.”
“I’m glad.” He pulled a pocketknife from his jeans and turned away from me. “Although…” The scrape of the blade over the clean wood bounced around the small space, but I couldn’t see what he was carving. “I hate we lost all those messages.”
“I don’t need messages to know you love me.” Maybe I used to as a kid, but not now.
Wind howled around the outside, sending a sudden chill through the treehouse. “But they meant something to you,” he said.
“Only because they were from you.” They reminded me of the little boy I’d always loved, of how much we meant to each other when we meant nothing to anyone else.
Finished with whatever he had scratched in, he snapped the knife’s blade back into place and pocketed it before turning to face me. “I love you. And I need to know that no matter what happens in life, you’re going to love me back.”
There was a look of unease on his face, one that looked an awful lot like doubt. Did he doubt me?
“You know I will.”
That unease let up a little, a hint of his normal cocky smile pulling at his lips. “For the rest of your life?”
“You’re an impossible act to follow, Hendrix.” I glanced around at the string of fairy lights, the candles. “So yes, for the rest of my life.”
He scooted a little closer. “Even if I stay dirt-poor and can’t buy you shit?”
“Good thing you’re the best thief I know.”
Then he shifted to the side. My gaze drifted to the words he’d carved on the wall—Marry me.
Not a question. A statement. A demand.
He dug into his pocket and held out a box with a bright-green ring situated in the middle of the black velvet. “This is the first thing I didn’t steal for you,” he said. “Because I traded my guitar for it over two years ago.”
I swallowed around the lump in my throat. He’d kept it for two years… That may not seem like a big deal for most people, but Hendrix had been desperate. He could have pawned that ring, gone and gotten his guitar back, and yet, he hadn’t… He’d held onto it the same way I’d held onto Sid. There was not a single doubt that I wanted to spend every minute of the rest of my life with that boy. I wanted to scream “Yes,” but I bit the inside of my cheek and stopped myself. I couldn’t.
Tears welled in my eyes as I stared at that ring and realized how close we were to having everything. How damn close…I’d been willing to live a lie with him, to protect him, but now the only person I was protecting was me.