Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
“Why?”
Sloane comes over and wraps her arm around my waist. She’s taller than me, so she’s able to rest her chin perfectly on my shoulder. “Because we knew you’d regret it if she didn’t have a proper burial.”
Another wave of emotion washes over me, weakening my knees. I sag into my sister’s embrace.
“You were right—people do grow up,” Dad agrees, reminding me of what I’d said that day in the kitchen. “And things do die. But the one thing that can never die is your compassion, sweetheart. You can’t change what’s imbedded deep in your soul. You loved that rabbit, just like you’ve loved every other injured stray you’ve brought home.”
“Where did you bury her?” My tears are drying, slowly leaking from the corners of my eyes.
“Your sister picked a nice shady spot on the property behind the far shed, in that fenced-off area where the dogs don’t go.”
My breaths begin to steady. I swallow, speaking through the lump in my throat. “Can you take me there?”
Dad looks startled. “Now?”
“No, we can wait till morning,” I say in a shaky voice. “Just don’t forget.”
“I won’t,” he promises, then grasps my chin with his hand and tips my head up. He searches my face. “Are you okay?”
I manage a nod.
“Are you sure? Do you want me to fix you a cup of warm milk? Hot tea?”
“I’m good,” I assure him, and I’m not lying. I feel like a massive load has been lifted off my chest. Picturing Silver’s body in the trash had ripped something apart inside of me, but those torn pieces of my heart are slowly stitching their way back together. “Let’s all go to bed now.”
“That’s a good idea,” he says.
“I’ll walk you to your room,” Sloane says, taking my hand.
We say good night to our father and go to my room, but rather than leave me to sleep, Sloane follows me in and sits on the edge of my bed.
“We need to talk.”
“It’s late, Sloane. And I just got off an emotional roller coaster. Can we save it for tomorrow?”
“No, we can’t. In fact, this is the perfect time to discuss it. When you’re feeling raw and your defenses are down.”
“That sounds ominous.” Swallowing my annoyance, I crawl back under the covers and draw them up to my neck. “Fine. Talk. I won’t be able to fall asleep right away, anyway.”
“Look, I get that you’ve gone through some rough shit. I do. And you have every reason to be upset and discouraged and anything else you’re feeling.” She exhales, shaking her head at me. “But whatever this act is you’re doing, it doesn’t suit you. This whole bad-girl routine has to stop. It’s not you.”
“It’s not an act. It’s a reaction to finally being completely fed up with the way everyone treats me like some fragile little mouse.” Resentment tightens my throat. “Especially you.”
“So that’s why you’re skinny-dipping with Mila and getting detention? Because your family is smothering you? Well, I’m sorry you’re burdened with people who care about you.”
I feel tired again. Exhausted. Of course. Sloane’s always got to be the martyr. It’s hilarious that she comes in here saying we have to talk about me, but somehow makes it about her.
“I don’t want to fight with you, Sloane.” My eyes start to feel hot again. “I just want you to understand me.”
“I’m trying.”
She scoots to the head of the bed, fishing my hand out from under the covers. I let her, only because her fingers are so warm and I’m suddenly feeling cold. Empty.
“Talk to me, Case. Please. I’m listening.”
My heart squeezes. We’ve always been close. We didn’t have a choice, I guess. Mom was gone, and the two of us were left to navigate a world hostile to girls without someone to teach us how to survive. Dad has done his best, but he can’t possibly understand what we’ve been through. What we will go through. Since we were little, I’ve turned to Sloane to help me figure these things out. For better or worse, she’s been my role model. Maybe that’s why we fight so much lately. She has a hard time looking at herself in the mirror.
“I screwed up,” I confess. “I hooked up with Lawson.”
Her eyes nearly leap out of her skull. She opens her mouth then snaps it shut again.
“And I told Fenn. So, of course, he didn’t take it well. Showed up here last night covered in blood and bruises.”
She drops her head, biting her tongue. Her enormous show of restraint doesn’t go unnoticed.
“I managed to make a mess of the whole thing, and I don’t know how to stop making things worse.”
After more silence than I’m comfortable with, Sloane readjusts her position, sitting cross-legged so she can peer down at me. “In a perfect world, what do you want out of all this?”