Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 157273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
He tapped a button and put it away. Our five minutes had turned into thirty.
“How did it happen?” Juniper repeated.
“It was a car accident.” I pushed the words through my dry throat.
“That part was in the articles.” Her hands twisted on the sweating glass. “But how did it happen? You were with her, right? That’s what the news said.”
“I don’t remember.” I lifted my glass, but it was empty, which wasn’t exactly helping the throat-closing feeling that always took hold when I tried to recall that night. “I know that we were coming back from celebrating after the Classic. I was told she lost control around a curve, and we hit a tree, and I . . .” It was nothing I hadn’t been through in therapy dozens of times to help me move past it, but the words clogged my airway and my heart started to race. “I lived, and she didn’t.”
You left her there to die. Mom’s voice screamed in my head.
Tires squealed in my memory. Glass shattered. Metal crunched. No matter how much was missing from that evening, the moment of impact stayed with me. And parts of what memory I did have didn’t match the official report, which made me question the rest of it.
“Allie,” Hudson muttered, suddenly filling my vision. He traded my lemonade for his. “Here, take mine.”
I gulped his down and concentrated on breathing deep and even. It was another reason for keeping lemonade in the house—the sour burst of flavor was supposed to help distract from anxiety attacks . . . or so my therapist told me.
“You have every right to know,” he said to Juniper. “But for now, you have to change the subject.”
“I’m fine,” I managed to say, and handed his glass back. “Thank you.” I pushed the memories away like they belonged to someone else’s story and faced Juniper. Her lips were pressed flat, and worry puckered her brow. “You have nothing to feel bad about,” I promised. “If I could remember more with any certainty, I’d tell you.”
“How can you not remember?” Juniper asked.
Hudson stiffened and his pocket started vibrating again.
“I hit my head so hard that I lost most of my memory from the hours before the crash, and then I didn’t wake up for a couple of days.” Good job. I lifted my hair and tilted my head so she could see the scar that ran down my hairline.
“Oh. I’m sorry.” Juniper glanced between Hudson and me as he declined another call. “Do you . . . do you know who my father is?”
“I wish I did, but I don’t.” She must have been seeing someone in San Francisco.
Juniper absorbed the news with a slow nod. “Will you tell me about her—my birth mother?”
I nodded. “If that’s what you want. We should probably talk to your mom—”
“No!” Juniper shouted, and Hudson somehow managed to pluck her glass out of her hands before it spilled. “You can’t!”
Hudson’s phone vibrated again, and I snatched all three glasses out of his hands, pinning one between my forearm and stomach. “Just answer it already.”
He shot me an apologetic look, then swiped the device to answer as he walked a few feet away. “What? I’m not on today. He did what with the dog?” Hudson snapped, and we both pivoted as he twisted his hat backward.
Oh, that’s exactly what I needed, Hudson Ellis to look even hotter than usual. What the hell was it about a backward baseball cap that made me feel seventeen again?
“Absolutely not.” He sighed. “I’m in the middle of something, but I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He hung up and shoved the phone back into his pocket as he came our way. “Sorry about that. Juniper, we have to tell your mother.” He relieved me of two of the lemonade glasses. “Thank you.”
I almost asked if everything was okay, but entwining my life with Hudson’s more than necessary was a bad idea given our current situation. “He’s right, we have to tell her.”
“No.” She shook her head vehemently. “She would have felt like she had to listen to you if you were my mom, but she won’t let me see you if she knows you’re my aunt!” Panic filled her eyes. “She’s made it crystal clear that I’m not allowed to find my family until I’m eighteen.”
Guess Hudson wasn’t exaggerating about Caroline’s position. Heaviness settled in my chest. Finding out that Juniper existed only to be denied the opportunity to know her felt like losing Lina all over again. And if that night had gone differently, it would be Lina standing here, not me.
“But you already found your family,” I said softly. “So, if we aren’t allowed to know you, then what’s left?” I looked up at Hudson. “Where do we go from here?”
Hudson’s jaw ticked. “Caroline deserves to know.”