Total pages in book: 216
Estimated words: 206530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1033(@200wpm)___ 826(@250wpm)___ 688(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 206530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1033(@200wpm)___ 826(@250wpm)___ 688(@300wpm)
“He’s not violent towards me. Towards women. There’s a difference.”
Daniel makes a noise like he’s not convinced and I swipe a hand down my face. I don’t have time to deal with Daniel right now.
“Look, thanks for calling me. This was really helpful and I really do appreciate it.”
“But fuck off? Look, okay, I get it. I just worry about you. And if he ever hurts you, I’ll cut his balls off and roast them for dinner.”
“Wow, thanks for that image.”
“You’re welcome.” There’s a pause and then, “But seriously, babe. You okay?”
I sigh, muting the TV as the reporter continues to talk to the oaf in the hospital bed. “I will be.”
I don’t know if that’s true but it’s what Daniel needs to hear.
Long after Daniel hangs up and the news segment is over, I’m still trying to think of what to do.
Because something has to be done.
This is my fault. Dylan already had such skewed misconceptions about himself because of how his father raised him and the things he liked in bed. Then with what I revealed to him about Darren, on top of learning about me and Bryce and that night…
He has no support system right now. He’s all alone in the world and I know better than anyone how desperate and terrifying a feeling that is.
Bryce made me feel helpless and worthless but over the last month with Dylan I’ve finally begun to believe it’s not true. Together we were strong.
He’s still the other half of me. Even if I’ve hurt him too much for him to ever be able to be with me—oh God even the thought chokes me and makes me want to fall to my knees and curl up in a ball, but I fight the impulse—even if he can never be with me, I’m still the only one who can help him right now.
He’s still my heart and I’m his. So I’ll help him in the only way I can think of. I’ll fight for him when he can’t fight for himself.
Twenty-One
DYLAN
“You have a visitor,” the guard says.
“I don’t want to see them.” I look back down to the book I’m reading. Crime and Punishment. Dostoyevsky seemed the only appropriate reading material.
The only people who’d want to visit me are Miranda, Darren, or the company lawyer. I’m not interested in seeing any of them.
There’s a reason I didn’t bother making a phone call to get bailed out. If there’s anywhere I belong even more than a seedy strip club, it’s gen pop at the Santa Clara County Jail.
“She said you’d say that,” the beefy guard says. “She also said to tell you her name is Chloe Lennox.”
My head shoots up and my book drops to the floor. “C-Chloe?”
“So you gonna see her?”
I nod and get to my feet.
But no, it can’t be my sister. Not after all these years.
How would she even know I was in jail? Me getting locked up can’t have made national headlines.
I’ve convinced myself it won’t be her by the time I’m led into the visiting area. It has to be Miranda just using Chloe’s name because she guesses I won’t see her if she used her own name. I have half a mind to turn around in the last hallway the guard leads me down, I’m so sure I’m right.
But what if…? It’s the tiniest doubt that keeps my feet moving forward. If there’s even the slimmest possibility it actually is my sister waiting for me out there, I owe it to her to show my face.
My breaths get shorter as the guard swipes his keycard and then types in a number on a keypad to unlock a large metal door. There is a row of private booths partitioned off with glass separating inmates from visitors.
I desperately search every face we pass as he leads me down the aisle. But it’s not until we get to the booth that’s the third from the end that I see her.
“Chloe,” I breathe out, hardly believing my eyes.
I tumble into the chair and then grab desperately for the phone. She already has hers up to her ear.
“Chloe. How are you— Why—” I have a thousand questions. A thousand things I want to say but now that she’s here in front of me, I’m struck speechless.
She’s so beautiful it hurts to look at her.
She has Mom’s heart-shaped face and her curly auburn hair looks lighter, like she’s been spending time in the sun.
And she looks somehow… I don’t know. Grown up. Like she’s a woman and not a girl.
But still so familiar it hurts. She still has a dusting of freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose and her cheeks. She’s still the sister I teased all growing up. The sister I love more than anything in the world.
She smiles and lifts her hand to the glass, and tears glisten in her eyes.