Series: Like Us Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 241
Estimated words: 236417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1182(@200wpm)___ 946(@250wpm)___ 788(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1182(@200wpm)___ 946(@250wpm)___ 788(@300wpm)
Confusion bunches his brows. “The big screen is inside,” he says like I’m delusional. “Along with heat.”
I unscrew the water and take a swig, clearing a knot in my throat. I recap it slowly, and I manage to say, “You asked me…if you’re weaker than me or if I’m just better at hiding it.” I glance over at him. “I’m just better at running from it, I think.”
“Running from it, huh?” Lo says in thought. “That sounds exhausting.”
“I’m not tired.” I bow forward, my elbows on my knees. I rip the edges of the plastic label with my short fingernail. “I think I could run until I die. I think I would’ve. Then I had to stop and go back…”
“For security.”
“For Luna,” I say. It was always about Luna. “I’ve talked to Farrow about it a bit. That night—I let it catch me. It rooted itself in me. It’s anger like I’ve never felt before. I’m not an angry person,” I tell him. “Never really have been. But sometimes I’m just so full of fucking rage about what happened.” I wipe at the wet creases of my eyes. “I’ve never hated parts of myself until now. But how the hell do you stop being angry at how much pain the girl you love was put through?”
I’m scared. Terrified. That he’s going to kick me out of his house. Tell me I’m not worthy of his daughter. That I can’t be around her if I’m feeling this way.
“She’s okay,” Lo breathes.
I cut my gaze to him, my nose flaring as my eyes well up again.
“She’s not in pain. She’s okay,” Lo nods to me a few times. “Luna survived with you that night. It might not feel like it because of her memories, but she got out. You got her out, Donnelly.” His eyes redden as emotion barrels into him too. “She’s not in pain. She’s the happiest I’ve seen her in a long time.”
I rub at my eyes with my fist, his words nearly opening me at the core. I’ve never wanted to hurt her. The mere fucking thought has woken me up in the middle of the night.
Lo leans closer and puts a hand on my shoulder like I’ve seen fathers do to sons in movies. “It’s okay.”
I shut my eyes, silent tears falling against my cupped palm around my eyes.
“It’s okay,” he breathes. “It really is.”
I exhale a long breath. “It doesn’t feel like it. I should be better for Luna.” I unzip my jacket and use the bottom of my shirt to wipe my face. “She deserves more.”
“She doesn’t expect more from you.” His brows furrow. “Why are you expecting so damn much from yourself?”
I’ve never wanted to put anyone out. I’ve never been a shackle or a burden, and the weight of whatever I’m carrying is heavy. A load that my girlfriend doesn’t need.
I can’t say any of it though. I can’t get it out.
Her dad squeezes my shoulder. “You’re doing your best. It’s enough.”
I take a deeper breath, letting that sink in. It’s enough. She’s not in pain. She’s okay. I got her out. She survived with me.
She’s happy.
I think she’s doing even better than I am, really. With a stronger breath, I swig my water, then pass him the second PuraFons bottle. We both glance at the TV.
“Dammit,” I mutter.
The score isn’t looking too good.
We spend the next minutes talking over the game, which is fine by me since the Bills are leading 17-20. Our defense looks like Jell-O.
Lo tells me about the time Connor and Rose dressed as Batman and Catwoman for Comic-Con. I tell him the story of how I got the shrimp tattoo. Snuck into a concert festival and did it on a dare. Lo shares about the time he forced Garrison Abbey to a Halloween horror maze only for Ryke to punch a clown and get kicked out in the end.
I laugh at that one. The air isn’t so thick.
He’s asking about the cover-up tattoo on my other calf. I inked over the names of all the clients I’ve had. Xander’s included.
“I finished it the other day,” I tell him. It’d been a geometric mess. Didn’t have time until recently to fix it. I managed to reconfigure the lines into an otherworldly planet. Bluish and purple, how I imagine Thebula looks from the stars.
“You’ve really read all her stories?” Lo asks, and that’s how we start talking about Thebula. How good of a writer Luna is. How she never gives herself the credit she deserves.
Two seconds left in the game now.
The Bills have the ball. Neither have scored since the last field goal. Still 17-20, and I’m losing all hope the Eagles will pull this one out. Chances are too slim. I feel hollowed open by more than just this loss, and strangely a bright moment tonight has been talking to Lo. So I tell him about the bachelorette party in New Haven where I ended up getting paid after a threesome.