Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 106754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
She looks taken aback for a second, but I don’t regret it in the slightest. She doesn’t belong here, not in her designer heels while carrying a handbag that costs more than our rent does.
“Ignore him, June,” Parker tells her cheerfully. “He’s being an ass. Why don’t you sit down? I’m sure we can have a nice time without Kade, too—his loss, right?”
He’s shooting me daggers with his eyes across his shoulder as he sits June down. I’m so angry I could slap him on the spot even though I have no right to do that. It was my idea, I think, just to punish myself further.
“Enjoy your dinner in that case,” I say, the venom spilling out of my words. I turn on my heels and walk out of there. I have no idea where I’m going, but I need to get away. I'm not about to sit down to a family reunion with a stepsis I want to be balls deep inside, and my idiot fucking twin brother.
Because it might have been my idea, but it should have been me sitting there with her. I should be the one she looks at adoringly with those huge eyes, not my brother. And I’m afraid that had I stayed there longer, he would be the one to get hurt, not June…
I walk around the streets, pretending I don’t care while my mind swims with ideas of how to get June away from Parker. But I can’t, and I won’t. I’ve held back for so long, and I’ll just have to last longer. I can't have her.
My promise to her mother is still fresh in my mind. She didn't want us together. I need to honor Rachel’s memory, not disrespect it.
Time passes slowly, and finally, I’ve had enough. It’s pitch-dark outside, and the few streetlights in our neighborhood are barely throwing any light on the pavement as I make my way back home. I stop under our brick apartment building, glancing up at the window that I know is in our kitchen.
The light is on.
I can just picture them, sitting at the table I paid for, eating food that Parker made, my paper bag forgotten on the counter. I want to grind my teeth with pure rage, but instead, I settle for punching the façade of our building.
I cuss loudly and look at my bleeding knuckles, nursing my hand.
“Well, that didn’t help much.” Someone conveys my thoughts out loud, and I turn toward the voice like it’s a siren calling to me. Of course, it’s June. She’s standing by the entrance to our building, Parker’s sweatshirt peeking out of her pristine white coat.
That alone lets me know she knows nothing about how hard life can be because, in my version, I'd probably get the white coat dirty on the subway, on the bus, just from fucking living my life. But if hers get so much as a little stain on it, she can just replace it with another one. It’s an endless supply of white coats for her, and a loop of torn jackets for me.
I rush into our building, ignoring June completely. But instead of backing off like I expected she would, June steps in my way, and I brush against her.
That alone sends a shiver through my body, and my muscles clench with how badly I want her. I’m so far gone—when did this happen? I thought I had myself under control.
“Wait, please…” she whispers, and I stop because as badly as I have to, need to go on, I would do it all for her. I will stop, and I will listen, even if it breaks me.
“June, let me be,” I repeat my own words from the previous day. “Please. I can’t right now. I'm sure you had fun with Parker, but I don't have the energy to deal with you every fucking day.”
I can feel her frown even though I’m looking at the floor, trying hard not to glance up at her beautiful face. I can imagine her lips setting in that pout of hers, the one that always gets her what she wants. And I know full well that if I see it now, this encounter will be no different. She has me twisted around her little finger, and she doesn’t even know it.
“Why do you try so hard to push me away?” she asks sadly, her words breaking syllable by syllable. “I know you hate me… I know you have reason to. But I tried to help you. I tried to give you money. Tried to get you an apartment. How can you be so self-righteous?”
I finally raise my gaze, though I still have to look down at her. June’s tall, but I still tower over her with my six-feet-four inches. I survey every area of her face, letting myself savor this moment.