Total pages in book: 215
Estimated words: 199344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 997(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 199344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 997(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
Pushing past the threshold of Lincoln’s bedroom, I take a deep breath, positive I can still smell him in here. It feels as though a lifetime has passed since I last saw his face, yet it also feels like it was just yesterday.
It’s funny how grief can come up and sucker punch you right in the gut. Just when you think you’re doing okay, something happens and you’re all the way back at square one, down on your knees, unable to breathe. That’s what it feels like mourning my little brother. It’s been almost five years, and while it’s gotten easier to get through each day, it still hurts all the damn time.
Fuck, I can’t even wrap my head around how much it’s going to hurt to mourn Zoey.
Walking around Linc’s room, my fingers skim across his desk, scanning over the papers and photographs I’ve looked at a million times before finally dropping down on the edge of his bed, Zoey’s tulip still clutched tightly between my fingers.
Bracing my elbows on my knees, I lean forward, taking shaky breaths and willing myself not to cry—not here, not in this room. “Linc, I . . . I know I’m not in any position to be asking favors from you. I was never the greatest brother. I let you down over and over again, especially after you were gone. I hurt the people I love, Zoey more than anyone,” I say, clenching my jaw and needing a minute to find just a shred of strength to continue. “I know you’re watching over us. There are times when I feel you and it’s as though I could swear you were right there in the room with me. I know you see what’s happening with Zoey. It won’t be long, and she’ll be up there with you, and despite how much I want to hold on to her, she needs to go to be free. She’s in pain, Linc, and it fucking kills me seeing her like that, but I need to know—” I pause, my voice beginning to waver. “I need to know that you’re going to watch out for her. She’s scared. Fucking terrified. She doesn’t know what’s coming for her, but you can help her. Take her hand and guide her through it. Please. Help her find her purpose in this next life, help her to let go, help her to know peace.”
Tears well in my eyes, and I hang my head, taking a few short breaths when my phone cuts through the silence. I dig into my pocket, pulling it out to find Henry’s name flashing across the screen, and my heart contracts as I bring the phone to my ear.
“What’s up? Is everything okay?” I rush out, not bothering with formalities.
“Noah, I . . . It’s time,” he tells me, his voice thick with grief. “You need to come home to her.”
My phone falls away, clattering to the ground as my hands start to shake.
No.
No, this can’t be right.
I’m not ready.
We were supposed to have another day. She was supposed to spend the day in my arms so I could tell her over and over again just how much I’ve loved her all of these years. I need to tell her how my heart races every time she looks at me, how her smile alone could bring me to my knees, and how much I’m going to cherish the time we spent together.
We were supposed to have more time.
I don’t remember leaving Linc’s room, but one second I’m on the phone with Zoey’s father, and the next, I’m racing down the street, pushing my Camaro to its limits. All I know is that she’s dying, that it’s time for her to go, and I’m not there holding her hand like I always promised.
I drive on auto-pilot careening through the morning traffic until my tires screech to a stop outside Zoey’s home, and then I’m running.
My feet pound against the pavement, sending me flying toward the front door when I grasp the handle and throw it open. I’m up the stairs in seconds, and just as I reach her bedroom door, I pause, terrified of what I’m about to see.
The door is open, and I hear Erica’s muffled cries, but when Zoey’s pained tone fills the room, it puts me back into motion. “Where’s Noah?”
“I’m here, baby,” I whisper, striding through the door and taking her in.
Those green eyes I love so fiercely are dull, quickly fading as Hazel lies in bed with her, the two of them snuggled in close. Zoey’s parents hover on her other side, and as I walk in beside her bed, Hazel pulls out of Zoey’s arms, giving me space.
“Come on,” Erica sniffles, her hand on Hazel’s shoulder. “Let’s give them a minute.”
Zoey’s eyes don’t leave mine, and I can only imagine what she’s seeing there. Pain. Despair. Agony. Heartbreak. Emptiness.