Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 79183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
He smells good too.
I sidestep him; I don’t want anyone to see the tears. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”
I swallow slowly and move to the right.
He follows.
I swerve to the left.
Same.
“Wait.” Quinn reaches for me.
It’s the first time someone’s touched me since the accident, I mean, really touched me in a way where you know they’re concerned.
Tears burn the back of my eyes.
I almost forgot what it felt like, the warmth from someone’s hand on my skin. It’s unfair, but I tell myself it’s okay, that I don’t need it.
I’ve only ever needed me, right? Who else can a person depend on anyway?
I slowly pull away, only to have him grab my wrist this time, then my hand. “Are you okay?”
It’s the absolute worst thing you can ask someone who’s just gone through trauma or, in my case, a lifetime of it.
My lips part; I’ve rehearsed this answer perfectly; I get asked dumb questions a lot. Nothing comes out right away. I try, I try so hard my throat hurts, but I have nothing but air coming into my lungs.
In and out.
It’s okay. Just breathe.
“Hey.” He pulls me closer to him until all I can smell is his vanilla scented cologne; he presses my face against his chest.
I exhale.
Once. Twice.
“There you go,” he whispers in that deep voice of his. “It’s not okay right now, obviously, but it will be because what other option do we have but to breathe, and take it all in, even when things need to come out—which they always do. You still have to breathe, Mary-Belle.”
A solitary tear slides down my cheek.
I don’t know if he can feel it on his arm.
I don’t ask.
And I’m so afraid to relax against him, to trust a relative stranger with a Star Wars fantasy who’s suddenly in my universe when I’ve done everything in my power to make sure it’s a one-person show since the incident.
“Your tears,” Quinn whispers into my ear. “It’s not a waste to shed them.”
I jerk away immediately.
That was close.
He’s too close.
And I’m too close to making another mistake. In one short month, I’ll be on my own, most likely paid off to live my life elsewhere and only make appearances at Christmas or Easter, so we keep up the perfect facade.
I tell myself that the money isn’t stained with blood and sacrifice.
I tell myself I won’t ever believe the lie.
“I um, should get to class.”
“Yes.” A low voice says behind me. “You should.”
Ambrose.
Goosebumps erupt all over my body as I slowly lower my head and start to walk past Quinn. He grabs my hand and twirls me back around. It hurts to look into Ambrose’s eyes, and it feels like Quinn’s punishing me for making me do it. I try to avert my own, but it’s like Ambrose has magical powers.
Slowly I lift my chin, people stop walking past us and stand. They stare at us like we’re a reality show dream when we’re in a nightmare.
Ambrose’s uniform is pristine, just like that sharp jawline. His smile is friendly, but I know it can be just as cruel. “What would Mom say?”
“What?” I ask.
“Mom, she wouldn’t want our ward to fall behind just because she’s flirting with the dipshit in the hallway?”
Quinn stiffens and then bursts out laughing. “Wow.”
“Glad you’re impressed.” Ambrose rolls his eyes. “All I’m saying is, get to class, get your work done, we all know how easily—“ he glares at Quinn “—distracted girls like you can get.”
Girls like me.
Girls like me.
Girls. Like. Me.
I start shaking.
Embarrassed and angry at myself for just standing there and not fighting back, hating myself for hoping that one shred of decency would come back and restore a little bit of what we had.
But his eyes hold nothing but pain.
And he refuses to stop inflicting it onto me.
I nod my head. “I’ll study extra hard then today. The last thing I want to do is let the family down.”
Ambrose scowls. “Too late for that, don’t you think?”
He starts walking past me, then stops and whispers over his shoulder, “Iron your uniform next time. You look like the trash you brought the first time you came to our house. Weren’t you carrying a bag?”
“Enough, Ambrose.” Quinn clips. “Fucking. Enough.”
Ambrose glares at him. “Are you her savior now?”
Quinn smirks. “What would make you think this girl right here ever needed saving? She can do it on her own; maybe you’ve just been too blind to see it this whole time. You need her more than she will ever fucking need you.”
I’m at a loss for words as Quinn grabs my arm and pulls me down the hallway. I feel like my body’s floating through a heated swarm of moisture and sunlight. I’m partially aware that I’m walking, but my brain can only focus on what Quinn said.