Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83221 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83221 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“It’ll pass,” he says after a moment. “My campaign manager has some community speaking engagements this week I’ll attend in an effort to redirect the focus. Annoying that I even have to do this, but necessary. Now, can we talk about why you look like someone stole your puppy?”
His words are a kick to the nuts.
“You won’t go away until I tell you?”
He shakes his head. “Nope. Might as well spill.”
Sighing, I sit up on the couch and run my fingers through my messy hair. “I broke up with my girl last night.”
His lips curl downward and familiar concern flickers in his eyes. “I knew you were seeing someone who was more than just a fuck buddy because of how you’ve been acting, but I didn’t realize just how much you liked her.”
“I don’t,” I lie, voice like acid. “Not anymore.”
He frowns. “She hurt you.” Not a question. A statement. “Like Jamie.”
For fuck’s sake, am I that obvious?
“It’s over now, so it doesn’t matter.” I shrug and avoid his astute stare. “I’ll be fine.”
“Man, you look like shit. Are you sure you’ll be fine? Do I need to lock away all the sharp objects?”
“I’m more likely to become homicidal than suicidal.”
“Don’t kill Jamie before Sunday dinner. Tomorrow she’s making her homemade tortellini.” He chuckles. “After is fine, though. I’ll even help you bury the body.”
This earns a smirk from me. Hugo is one of the few people who can bring me out of one of my dark moods. If it weren’t for Hugo back then, when Dad and Jamie nearly destroyed me, I would have gone to a low place and never returned. His annoying ass won’t go away until he’s sure you’re not going to off yourself.
“I really am sorry about your campaign.”
“And I’m sorry about your breakup.” He tilts his head up and stares at the ceiling. “Why God likes to punish us Parks is beyond me.”
“I blame Dad. He sold his soul and each of ours upon birth to the devil in order to make more money.”
“Sold his soul to the devil?” Hugo grins. “Nah, I think he just married her.”
This makes me smile in return. I’m thankful as fuck I can always count on Hugo. The rest of my life may be going to shit, but my brother always has my back and knows just what to say.
“Come on,” Hugo barks out, rising to his feet. “Grab a shower and shave your pretty boy face. I’m starving and you need a stiff drink. Let’s get out of here and go somewhere where we can shit talk all your exes.”
Gemma: I’m worried about Willa. Did she say anything to you when you dropped her off?
My mood, improved by Hugo’s company and a steak dinner, sours instantly. He dropped me off not five minutes ago and I’m already back in this deep, dark hole of feeling sorry for myself at just the mention of Willa’s name.
Me: She was fine when I dropped her off.
Gemma: I went by to grab my stuff today and she was in bed. Her mom was taking care of her. Said she had a bug, but I don’t believe it. Her stepbrother is a prick. I just worry.
As much as I don’t want to care, I can’t deny that I do. That asshole’s smug face pops into my mind.
Me: You’re a good friend. If she seems weird in class on Monday, I’ll ask her if she’s okay.
The thought of talking to her has both a ripple of dread and a slight thrill of desire warring for ownership in my body.
Gemma: You’re the best.
She wouldn’t be thinking that way if she knew it was me who called the cops on their little party and interrupted their fun.
I flip over to Willa’s contact and pull up our text conversation. It takes everything in me not to scroll through the entire thing, reminiscing on a time when everything was blissfully perfect. Before I can talk myself out of it, I shoot her a text.
Me: Gemma is worried about you.
I can’t bring myself to tell her I am too.
No response.
I wait for a good five minutes before texting again.
Me: Just let me know you’re okay and I’ll leave you alone.
Still nothing.
An uneasiness settles in my gut. She doesn’t deserve my concern, but it’s there anyway. My mind whirls with reasons as to why she’s not responding, none of them good.
Me: If you don’t answer me back, I will be forced to check for myself.
If she’s fucking my little brother or nephew, then surely she’ll respond to keep me from showing up.
Five more long minutes pass.
Me: Has Levi done something?
Me: For fuck’s sake, Willa. Answer me.
Since she won’t reply to my texts, I call her. It rings and rings before going to voicemail. The unnerving feeling intensifies and worry begins taking over my every thought.