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 haven’t,” I admit, not forcing her to finish that sentence. “It’s not what I expected. I thought it would feel different.”
Mom strides into the room, moving in beside me and peering over the photo in my hand. “He loved that photo,” she tells me. “He used to call you guys the four musketeers.”
My brows furrow. “Really? I don’t think I ever knew that.”
“Yeah,” she laughs. “He only said it around me. He didn’t want to risk not sounding cool in front of his big brother.”
A fond smile pulls at my lips, and I clutch the photo just a little bit tighter, loving that even after death, I’m still learning new things about my little brother. But he was right, had I known he’d called us that, I would have teased him relentlessly. Then he would have told Zoey, and she would have put me right in my place before forcing me to apologize. She was the glue that kept us all together—kept me together.
“Sounds about right,” I tell her before letting out a heavy sigh. “I wish I was better to him. He always wanted to hang out, and I always told him to go away. If I’d known, I never would have—”
“I know, my love,” Mom says, squeezing my shoulder. “But while you may have regrets, just know that Lincoln was the happiest little guy I’ve ever known. Even when you were busy with Zoey, he was still living life to the fullest. He had Hazel, and they got up to even more mischief than you and Zoey ever could.”
A barking scoff tears from the back of my throat. “Okay. Now I know you’re lying.”
“Say what you want, but right after that photo was taken,” she tells me, glancing down at the picture of the four of us in my hand, “Linc talked Hazel into shoplifting for the first time.”
I gape at her, not sure which part of that to pick apart. The fact that they shoplifted together, or the fact that she said that was their first time, implying it happened more than once. “How the hell didn’t I know that?”
“Ha,” she laughs. “Like I was about to put that idea into your head. Knowing you and Zoey, the two of you would have tried to outdo them and would have come home with a whole jewelry store and a convoy of police cars behind you.”
A stupid grin stretches across my face. She’s probably right.
“Oh, God,” she says with a heavy sigh, her gaze lingering on the photo. “I do miss the four of you together.”
My gaze sails over Zoey, taking in the wide smile she has for the camera, but when I glance at myself, all I’m smiling at is her. “I, um . . . I was wondering if we were going to head out for our usual Friday night dinner with Zoey’s family?” I ask, getting up and striding back over to Linc’s desk, sliding the image back under the notebook exactly where I found it.
“Huh?” Mom grunts, her face scrunched up as she watches me, a deep suspicion flashing in her eyes. “Why? I ask you to come with me all the time, and I get the same big whopping ‘No’ every single time. Besides, you’re well into the football season now. You usually head out to some ridiculous party on a Friday night.”
“Yeah,” I mutter, making my way to the door. “You’re right. Forget I asked.”
“Noah Ryan, you get your stubborn ass back here and tell me what the hell is going on,” she says, making me pause in the doorway and turn back. Then as I meet her curious stare, she prods a little further. “Why do you want to go to dinner all of a sudden?”
I shrug my shoulders and give her a stupid grin. One I know she can see right through. “Because Erica makes a kickass lasagna.”
Her eyes start to sparkle as if she’s figured something out. “Erica’s lasagna tastes like the cardboard box it came out of, and you know it,” she says, her gaze narrowing. “Unless there’s another reason you’d like to go.”
I press my lips into a hard line, trying to keep the smile from stretching across my face. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“OH, NOAH!” she squeals before throwing herself at me, her arms flying around my neck and squeezing me so tight I think I might pass out. “About damn time.”
“Ugh,” I groan, rolling my eyes, but I can’t manage to wipe the smile from my face. “Come on, Mom. Be cool.”
“Oh, honey. I can’t,” she beams. “If you were raising a hellhound like yourself, you’d understand how good it feels to find out he’s finally falling for the one girl that can keep him grounded and out of trouble.”
“Laying it on thick, don’t you think?” I say, the laughter rich in my tone. “Besides, Zoey isn’t the same girl she was at thirteen. Maybe I’ll just drag her down with me.”