Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 54287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
She blows out a breath, and finally the smile returns to her face. “That’s a funny story, really.”
My jaw tightens. “What does that mean? You didn’t take him back, did you?”
She blurts out a laugh. “Not a chance. He cheated on me. That’s never happening.”
It makes me feel better to hear her say she’ll never take him back. She definitely deserves better. “Okay, so what’s the funny story then?”
“Remember that time around three years ago when you and Zach were on leave and came to Whiskey Run?”
I don’t even blink even though I know exactly where this is going. “Yeah, I remember.”
She laughs as she looks at me curiously. “Well, it’s funny because that was about the time I was barely making it through college. Wayne hadn’t paid a lick of child support, I was stressed out, and I was this close to just quitting college because it was all so overwhelming.”
I nod, but I don’t say a word, letting her finish.
She tilts her head to look at me. “Well, I confided all that in Zach and didn’t think anything of it. Until the day after you two left and Wayne came to see me. He said he sold his Camaro and gave me a check to pay all the child support in full. He hasn’t been late since. He’s not father of the year or anything, but there was definitely a change in him. He’s more involved in Alexis’s life, and he’s good to her.”
I find myself nodding my head even though I already knew that Wayne had been toeing the line. “That’s good.”
“Do you know anything about it? I mean, it’s weird that he did a big one-eighty right after you and Zach left, don’t you think?”
I lift my shoulders in a shrug. I’m not going to lie to her, but I’m glad that Wayne has kept his side of the deal. Yes, Zach and I went to find Wayne before we left. There’s no way I was leaving Whiskey Run without talking to him. Not after hearing how hard of a time Abby was having. And yes, I threatened Wayne’s life. I made promises to him that day that I should probably feel guilty about, but I don’t. “How’s teaching?” I ask her, instead of answering her question.
She rests her hands on her knees. “Good. I’m teaching sixth grade this year, and I’m really liking it. But let’s stop talking about me. How are you?”
I’ve never been one to talk about myself, but there’s no way I’m going to just ignore her question. “I’m alive.”
Her face instantly transforms, and it’s then I realize that I gave away more in that statement than I meant to. Yes, obviously I have survivor's guilt. My therapist tells me that my feelings are normal, but I swear I haven’t felt anything close to normal in a long, long time. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I’m good. I’m finally getting used to the prosthetic, and the pain is bearable.”
The way she looks at me with sadness makes me mad at myself. I don’t ever want to make her feel sad or worried, and that’s exactly what I’m doing. I bring pain to others even if it’s the last thing I want to do.
I clear my throat, hoping the emotion doesn’t show in my voice. “I’m sorry. I’m not very fun to be around—”
She cuts me off. “Davis, don’t do that.”
“Do what? I’m being honest with you. I haven’t been myself in a long time. Maybe seeing your folks and Alexis is a bad idea.”
She bolts out of her seat and comes to stand in front of me. Her hand grips the front of my shirt, and she pulls me to her. “Forget it, Davis. Whatever you’re thinking, you can forget it.”
Being this close to her is like a shock to my system, and I’m not thinking clearly. “What am I thinking?”
She shakes her head with a smirk on her face. “You’re thinking that if you leave again, you’re saving us or some nonsense like that. Heck, you’ve already got one foot out the door, but it’s not happening, Davis. Not when we just got you back. You think I’m Zach’s little sister and I can’t handle things, but you’d be surprised by the shit I’ve survived.”
I tense as I listen to her. What exactly does that mean? The fact that she’s been hurt by someone is like a knife to my heart, and I literally feel ill. “Abby—”
Her hand slides up my chest, and I freeze. We’ve never had this type of relationship. We didn’t touch one another; she was always my best friend's little sister. She was off limits. But now, when it’s just the two of us, and instead of the teenage girl I remember there’s a grown woman in her place touching me, I can barely hold myself back. When her hand cups my neck and her fingers do a gentle massage across my bare skin, all I can do is will myself to keep my hands to my sides.