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)
I barely get two steps away when a familiar tone tears through the night. “Why are you following my daughter home, Noah?” Zoey’s father, Henry, asks.
Fuck.
Turning back around, I find Henry James standing on his front lawn, his hands buried in his pockets with disapproval written across his face. “She’s drunk and stubborn, sir,” I tell him, not bothering to sugarcoat it. “She left the party without telling a soul. I couldn’t let her walk all the way home alone.”
Mr. James holds my stare for a moment, his gaze narrowed. “You abandoned her three years ago when she needed you the most, so let me be very clear with you, Noah. Zoey doesn’t need you anymore. She clawed her way back without you, and I am not about to let you drag her back down into that pit of despair. Do you understand me? I may not have seen you over the past few years, but I have followed you. I’ve kept an eye on you, Noah, and you are a troubled child. I have seen the type of trouble you get yourself into, and the lack of respect you have for authority. You’re heading down a dangerous path, and I don’t want you leading my daughter down it with you. When it comes down to it, you and I both know that she will follow you blindly. You’re not good enough for her, Noah. Not anymore.”
“Believe me,” I say with a nod, taking a step back as a lump forms in my throat. “I know.”
“I appreciate you making sure she got home okay,” he says. “But this is the last you will see of her outside of school.”
I stare at him, knowing without a doubt that I can’t accept that. The idea of never seeing her. . . fuck. I know that’s what I asked for, what I’ve needed these past few years, but I always knew that at some point, we would find our way back to each other. But having her this close and never being able to see her? No, I won’t accept that.
“With all due respect, Mr. James. No,” I tell him. “There’s too much history, and you know damn well that Zoey isn’t just going to walk away. I see it in her eyes. She thinks she can somehow save me, and you and I both know that means she’s never going to give up. You can try and keep her away from me all you like. I’ll fucking beg you to, but you can’t. I know you’re just trying to look out for your daughter. I’d do the same if I were you, but this needs to be her decision. Zoey and I . . . We’re two halves of the same whole, and no matter how much I try to pull us apart and burn that tether between us, we’ll always be forced back together. It’s inevitable.”
I glance up at the home before me, finding Zoey hovering in her bedroom window, watching over me and her father with a deep curiosity in her eyes. I hold her stare for only a moment, so many silent messages passing between us, just like they used to, and with that, I bow my head and walk away before I throw myself through the door and fall to my knees, begging her to forgive me.
14
Zoey
Gently pressing a kiss to the photo of me as a child in the hospital, I pull the frame away and glance down at the little version of me. “Wish me luck,” I say, the nerves pounding through my body and making me want to hurl.
Monday mornings suck at the best of times, but this is the first Monday morning after Liam’s disastrous party that I’ll see Noah, and I can’t think of anything worse. Friday night started out great. It was fun . . . until it wasn’t.
Having at least twenty cheap cocktails thrown on me wasn’t exactly the type of good time I was looking for. Though to be honest, I was drunk enough to be able to shrug off the humiliation. Had that happened any earlier in the night, I would have crumbled right there on the dance floor. The fact that it happened right in front of Noah didn’t help. Not to mention his inability to be the hero I always needed him to be. But it wouldn’t be Shannan if she didn’t strive for maximum effect.
Forcing him into the bathroom to tear him to shreds was one thing, but the walk home was pure torture. I shouldn’t have said anything about that day at the park three years ago. I don’t know what I was trying to achieve. Maybe I wanted to see if he remembered, or maybe I just needed to remind him how it used to be. But hearing him recite those words killed me. He remembers it all just as deeply as I do, and despite that, he’s still capable of denying that I mean a damn thing to him, and I think that’s what hurts the most.