Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 150968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 755(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 150968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 755(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
Irritation bubbles through me. But fear also accompanies it. I hope Cole is already sleeping. I don’t want him to hear what’s about to go down tonight. My fists clench in apprehension. Jesus Christ, I really fucking hope Cole is deep asleep.
He doesn’t need to see any more of this.
I drop my bags in the foyer and walk up the stairs. My muscles are sore from the game tonight. And even though we won, my focus didn’t get better during the last half of the game. Coach was so pissed, I think he blew a blood vessel. Maddox was annoyed, but he didn’t chew my ass out.
I wasn’t even in the mood to party tonight. Cole left as soon as the game ended. He didn’t even bother waiting for me. I was going to suggest he come to the bonfire party tonight, like always. Like how it’s always been before the accident. Maybe a change of scenery would do him good, but he disappeared as soon as the crowd started cheering for Berkshire’s victory.
I know he still mourns for Josie. But it’s more than that.
He also mourns for his lost football career.
He mourns for his leg…and the limp that will accompany him for the rest of his life. He mourns for what could have been and what it is now.
Even as his twin, I can’t do anything to pacify my brother. Fuck, he barely even talks to me anymore. He’s just there…a walking shell, a living corpse.
I enter my father’s office, and my breath expels out of me in a loud whoosh. Cole is inside, sitting on the couch. He’s gripping the armrest so tightly, his knuckles are white.
Sienna is also there, leaning against the shelves in her robe. The belt is undone, and her maroon silky night dress peeks out from underneath. She’s still got a face full of makeup and her hair is nicely styled. This only means one thing, and my heart dips in the pit of my stomach.
I close the door behind me. Cole is staring at the ground; his body so tense I can see the rigid outline of his muscles through his shirt. My father pours himself a glass of whiskey and he takes a slow sip, his gaze on me. He watches me closely, taking his sweet time with his drink.
He does this often. It’s a show of power, a way to drag out the suspense, to remind me that he’s in control and that I should be cowering. His face is cold, devoid of any gentle expressions. As if he was cut from stone then put perfectly together, resembling a human. But he’s only perfect on the outside. On the inside, he’s hollow. Empty and dead.
I don’t bother sitting down next to Cole. I stay standing by the door, and wait for my father’s verdict. Henry Bennett is, after all, judge, jury and executioner. And he likes to remind us of that quite often.
He takes one last sip of his whiskey, and then finally speaks. “I got two phone calls today.”
Just get to the point, do what you have to do and let me get some fucking sleep.
“Your guidance counselor called.”
Mrs. Hudson is a goddamn traitor. She told me she’d give me another chance to make progress before calling my parents. But I guess not. She had to rat me out.
“You’re failing two classes,” my father continues, stoically, “and then surprise, surprise. Your coach called. He’s benching you for the rest of the season.”
Fuck.
I should have seen this coming.
But I thought Coach Reagan was a pussy. Thought he was only bluffing when he threatened me. I was wrong. Again.
“Do you know how embarrassing it was to take those calls?” He grits out, taking a threatening step toward me. “My son, a Bennett, is failing two classes at Berkshire Academy, and he’ll be sitting on his ass while his team is going to be on the field. Winning games that you will not be part of.”
He places his glass on his desk. “I keep waiting for the moment you’ll prove that you are, indeed, my son, but you just keep on disappointing me, Colton.”
You’re a disappointment, Colton.
You a worthless piece of shit.
Are you even my son?
His words echo in my ears. I’ve grown used to hearing them over the last few years, but after the accident, it seems Henry Bennett has reached the end of his ropes.
I am his loser son, and sometimes, I wonder if he’ll just kill me in my sleep.
It’ll probably be easier for him. To deal with my death rather than having me be an embarrassment to him on a regular basis.
“All I have ever asked of you two is to continue my legacy.” His eyes darken. “My sons can’t be failures. Is that too much to ask?”
I hold his gaze, keeping my back straight. Unease creeps through me, because I know what’s coming, but I push it all down. Into a dark abyss, where no one can see it.