Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 43444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 217(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 217(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
After Cassandra Wayne had started to give them all the kind of lecture she hadn’t heard from her since they were teenagers, her father stopped the tirade with one touch of his hand.
He’d looked at Bronte with pain in his eyes. “No one hurt you, did they, Bronte? Made you feel like you couldn’t tell us? He didn’t…?”
Bronte’s knees weakened and she sat down beside him, covering the hand that was clutching one of the books he always carried around.
What he wasn’t saying was written all over his expression. Had he always known about what happened to her or had he guessed? She’d taken for granted the fact that she’d be able to hide from the trauma in her big, busy family. No one ever said anything. Nothing after all this time. But her parents clearly hadn’t forgotten.
She’d never wanted them to know, but somehow it mattered that they did. More than she’d ever be able to express.
“William would never hurt me. He didn’t trick me either and everyone needs to know that. I dared him to marry me and he accepted.”
“That’s news to me,” Hugo said under his breath. “We should ban her from margaritas. For life.”
“I can’t believe no one told me.” Thoreau sounded pissed, but Austen only patted his hand.
“You tell your girlfriend Fiona everything. She tells the Finns. You don’t get the good stuff anymore, and apparently neither do I.”
Bronte could hear them, but she couldn’t look away from her father. Foster’s eyes were glassy with repressed emotion. “We couldn’t love you any harder, Bronte, and you know we’ll always support you. But I wish you’d trusted us with the truth.”
And that tore her up more than any shouting match ever could.
“I’m sorry. This was my mistake. I made the wrong decision, for the wrong reasons, but never think it was because I didn’t trust you.” She took a breath and pushed on. “I’m still sorting out how I feel about…everything. I’m going to need some time and space to do that, but I promise I’ll never keep secrets from you again. Any of you.”
She’d expected a vote on her punishment after that. That was the Wayne Way. Instead they’d given her what she’d asked for. Space. But it was clear a few weeks of privacy was all she was allowed.
She looked up to find Austen and Hugo watching her with matching expressions of concern. “Stop. I’m fine. I’m taking advantage of the rest of my vacation days, that’s all.”
Her brother wrapped his arm around her shoulder and tugged her into his side. “You’re not fine, Brontesaurus. You forget how well I know you. The slayer of schedules does not sit in a pile of mismatched yarn in the middle of the afternoon like a nesting bird. In dirty pajamas,” he added, eyeing her worn out tank top.
“Let’s not even talk about the hair situation,” Austen interrupted innocently, pushing her own long tresses over her shoulder with zero subtlety. “I’ve been working on a rinse that might be able to bring that ratty mess under control.”
Bronte touched her hair self-consciously, watching her perfectly put together sister with a frown. “So if I get dressed and go to the salon you’ll leave me alone?”
“No.” Austen sat down at the table and opened the pizza box without fanfare, grabbing a narrow slice for herself. Bronte’s stomach rumbled. “No one will be leaving anyone alone. We’re only the first wave. We took a vote.”
“Here it comes,” Hugo warned her in a quiet undertone.
“This isn’t an intervention. We aren’t talking about our feelings or giving you a stirring speech about how important you are and how you should love yourself, no matter how old and cranky you happen to be, and go after what you want.”
“Thank God you’re not doing that,” Bronte muttered.
“We will be sorting your shit out. I’m in charge of appearance, naturally. Hugo is our spy in Finn-land as well as your emotional cheerleader.”
Bronte threw him some side eye and he caught it, shaking his fist playfully. “Rah.”
“The rest of the siblings are already brainstorming solutions to your current dilemma.”
“My dilemma?”
Austen nodded. “You know, your husband problem?”
She looked at them both in surprise. “There’s nothing to solve. He’s in Baltimore. He sent me away.”
But she hadn’t filed any paperwork. Hadn’t called a lawyer. She’d been doing her best to avoid thinking about it at all.
“Cheerleader, give her the intel.” Austen bit into her pizza and moaned dramatically, leaving Bronte torn between what she wanted more, food or information.
Hugo cupped both hands behind his head and sent Austen a speaking look. “You know how upset Younger was when I told him where you’d been and why.”
Bronte nodded, the guilt piling on again. “I’m sorry about that.”
Hugo shrugged. “I understand why you did it. Believe it or not I even understand why William sent you home and I’m grateful to him. He was protecting you.”