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)
“Did Sloane put you up to this?” I ask warily.
“Just asking the question,” he says with a shrug that’s a bit more pointed than his words suggest.
He’s not entirely wrong to be suspicious. Not even a little. Under the surface of what he knows about me, there’s a ship-killer of guilt lurking in the darkness. Because I’m an asshole for wanting her, and an even bigger asshole for letting this happen against my better judgment. With every day, every kiss, I’m a little closer to ruining her.
RJ stands between me and the door, a not-so-subtle signal of the sincerity of his interest. I asked for his attention, and now I’m not getting out of here until I’ve satisfied it.
“I’d never hurt her,” I tell him, my voice coming out gruff. I want it to be true. And that’s the best kind of honesty I can give him.
Appraising me, RJ clearly wants to say something else, but my phone buzzes in my pocket. I release a breath, surprised at the relief to be let off the hook. Then I see my dad’s number on the screen and curse under my breath.
“It’s my dad,” I mutter, then put the call on speakerphone with a curt, “Yeah?”
I’d have let it go to voicemail if I wasn’t somewhat thankful for the rescue. This stare down with RJ was getting intense. I can’t imagine where his interest is coming from except that Sloane is far more put out over our relationship than I had assumed. Part of me wonders if she might be on a campaign to turn RJ against me, so long as Casey and I are together. I know it comes from a good place—she wants to protect her little sister—but Sloane is ruthless when she wants to be.
“Good morning,” my dad answers with a pathetically cheerful voice I assume he’s doing for the benefit of RJ’s mom on the other end. “Did I catch you before breakfast?”
“Yeah, what do you want?”
These days he’s on my phone more times than in the last several years of my life combined. It’s all part of his sudden character turn toward some network TV dad impersonation that’s both disturbing and insulting. Ever since Michelle came along, it’s like he’s discovered his paternal roots and is trying to make up for a decade of benign neglect. Or at least he wants RJ and his mom to believe he’s trying to be a better father.
I’m not buying it. People don’t change overnight. Hell, I’m not convinced people change at all. They just get better at hiding their malfunctions. So, no, I don’t believe my father suddenly stopped being a selfish prick and now cares about pesky matters like “family.”
Where was Mr. Family Man after Mom died? Nowhere near me, that’s for sure. Before her death, he and I were close. We laughed together, went sailing. I even got him to play video games with me sometimes. We used to have fun.
Then she was gone, and Dad completely iced me out. He buried himself in work and relegated me to afterthought territory. When he did remember my existence, he’d feel guilty and throw money at me, then disappear again.
And eventually, I liked being left alone. I mean, what teenager wouldn’t want to run wild with zero consequences? No matter what I did, what crazy shit I got into, Dad didn’t even bat an eye. The summer before sophomore year—back when I was still at Ballard like seventy-five percent of the rejects who now attend Sandover—I threw a party at our house in Greenwich that resulted in the entire place being trashed and the cops showing up after a dozen noise complaints—and Dad couldn’t care less. He just hired a cleaning service and then went into his study to finalize some deal he was negotiating with a tech company in Japan. When I was expelled from Ballard and that snooty Swiss prep school? He didn’t even blink. Merely wrote another check and shipped me off to Sandover.
So whatever this is, this unwelcome olive branch he keeps trying to wave in my face, I’m not interested. I lost interest years ago.
“I hoped we could talk again about Christmas break,” Dad tells me. “Taking a little family vacation with all of us.”
“Uh, yeah. I think it’s a little late for that trip to Disney World, Dad.”
“Michelle suggested we go somewhere with mountains. Maybe some skiing?”
“What do I care? Do whatever you want. I’ve got other plans.”
“Think about it,” he urges, apparently choosing to ignore my blatant rudeness as some sort of psychological warfare. “In the meantime, Michelle and I wanted to come out for a visit sometime soon. We could take you boys out for a nice dinner. How does that sound?”
“Hard pass.”
I end the call without the slightest trace of remorse. Not even the flicker of disapproval in RJ’s dark eyes triggers any sort of repentance. I get we’re stepbrothers now and this affects him too, but RJ would do better to butt out. He can’t possibly appreciate eighteen years of history based on knowing David for a few months. Most of which we’ve spent in this dorm.