Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 125465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
Tessa taps insistently at the back of my mind.
Wherever you go, there you are. Right. Here I am, telling myself things might get better when I’m at Corium, falling straight into the trap my cousin warned me about. That didn’t take long, did it?
“You finally broke down and decided to follow in your big brother’s footsteps, huh?” Quinton puffs his chest out. “I knew it was only a matter of time. You can’t help wanting to emulate me.”
“Enough.” Aspen giggles with a playful shove before getting up and rounding the dining room table to give me a tight hug. It’s just as fierce and loving as the rest of her.
“This is so exciting.” Her eyes are shining when she pulls back. “I know Lucas will keep a special eye on you. You’re going to fit in just great.”
“I’m looking forward to getting settled in,” I lie with an equally fake smile. For the briefest moment, no longer than the time it takes my heart to beat, something like concern passes across her face.
She knows. Somehow, she knows.
No, that’s nothing more than a guilty conscience driving me out of my skull. There’s no reason for her to know what’s really going on inside my head. I have to stop psyching myself out, or I’ll dissolve into paranoia.
Looking to Quinton’s left, to the empty chair where Ren would’ve sat in better, happier times, I pretend not to be bothered by it.
Mom beams at her end of the table. “I can’t pretend it doesn’t make me happy, knowing you’re someplace I can trust.”
That’s it. That’s the comment that will break me. I’ve withstood everything so far. I’m faking a smile for Mom, my brother, and his wife, the same smile I plastered across my face when Dad made his big announcement.
But Mom’s assumption of my safety is the straw about to break the camel’s back. Because didn’t Q almost die there? Aspen, too? Is there such a thing as safety anywhere?
My gaze drifts over the empty chair once again, making my heart clench. Three days. He’s had three days to find me here, to sneak in like he did on my birthday. The sight of his customary chair drives home the disappointing fact that no matter what I try to tell myself, I’m nowhere near letting him go. Not if, in my heart of hearts, I hoped he’d sneak in to be with me again.
He doesn’t care. Why should you care about him?
I pick at my food, nodding at Mom’s suggestion of going shopping for new clothes. Why I need new clothes when I have plenty, I don’t know. Just because I’m going to a different school doesn’t mean I need a new wardrobe.
My awareness is miles away, pondering, picking at half-healed scabs. What if he’s dead? He could be, for all any of us knows. There’s no way of knowing who he got himself involved with or where he ended up. How he could’ve survived on his own.
Isn’t it funny how when I think that, when I test the idea, it doesn’t hurt as much as the alternative? What if he moved on? What if he forgot me? Yes, I would rather he be dead than know he forgot me. If that doesn’t confirm how completely mental this entire thing has made me, I don’t know what does.
Movement from the other side of the table catches my eye, and I have the displeasure of witnessing my brother tuck a strand of blond hair behind his wife’s ear before he caresses her cheek.
It’s nice that they’re happy. I want them to be happy because I love them.
But do they have to be so happy around me? I hate myself for even thinking that—it’s so childish, petty. It’s not like I would ever say that out loud to them, but I’m still embarrassed that I’d even think it. I know all too well how they struggled before they could finally be together. They deserve all the good things they have now.
Something passes between them. A special sort of look, a tiny nod. I’m the only one who notices it, with my parents talking over us, discussing plans to get me ready for my new school.
Q clears his throat. When that doesn’t work, he taps a fork on the side of his wineglass. “Sorry to interrupt,” he says with a grin when our parents look at him with similar expressions of surprise. “But there’s something we wanted to talk about tonight. Scar sort of stole our thunder.”
And I know. All at once, it hits me before he even has to say it.
There’s no wine in Aspen’s glass.
He turns to her, and the love that radiates from him almost makes me embarrassed to witness it. Like they should be alone. Like nobody should break in on their special moment. Aspen glows as she meets his gaze, wearing a loving smile.