Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 147891 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 592(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147891 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 592(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
“No, that’s okay, Makoto. I’m fine.”
When he turns for the vegetables again, I leave the kitchen to find the deck. Outside, the air is humid and thick, the clouds hanging low. No sunshine today, I presume.
I turn my head left, spotting someone sitting in the middle of the field. His legs are crossed as he focuses on the view of the ocean, his brows bunched together, as if deep in thought. Warren.
Not too far away from him near a line of trees is Danica. She has her Katana in hand and whips it in the air with precision. Caz gave it back to her this morning. A truce, I presume. Danica’s eyes shift to Warren every so often before returning to her sword training, her back and arms stiff, lips pinched tight.
I walk inside again and ask Makoto, “Actually, I do need something. You wouldn’t happen to know what a peanut butter and jelly sandwich is, would you?”
Chapter 93
WILLOW
With a steel cup of milk in one hand and a Vakeeli version of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in the other, I leave the castle and walk toward Warren.
As I approach, his head turns a fraction to find me, and a whisper of a smile claims his lips. I take the spot beside him on the grass, and his eyes fall to the sandwich and cup of milk.
“Didn’t eat breakfast?” he asks.
“I did, actually. But I gather you didn’t.”
He shrugs. “Not really hungry.”
“Do you remember peanut butter and jelly sandwiches?”
Warren huffs a laugh. “How could I forget? We practically survived on them every summer, especially when Dad started working more.”
I avoid the topic of our father for now. It’s a sore spot, and I want to cheer my brother up, not bring his mood down. “Mine were always better,” I say, bumping his shoulder.
“Yeah, okay. You wish.” He cracks a half-smile. “You always put too much jelly and not enough peanut butter. Made it so sloppy.”
“Those are the best kind!” I laugh, offering him the sandwich. “Try this one. It’s not our usual, but maybe you’ll like it. Makoto said it’s pecan cream and blackfruit jam. It’s the closest thing we could find.” I extend my arm, holding it closer to him. He’s so much skinnier than he was the last time I saw him. Even through the gray T-shirt that hangs off his body like a cloth, I can see the ridges of his spine.
Warren takes the roll from me, studying it carefully. The eggplant colored blackfruit jam spills over the edges, and the tan pecan cream merges with it. He takes a big bite, then moans with a sigh.
“It’s really good,” he says.
“Yeah? Break me off a piece.” I take the piece he offers, popping it into my mouth. “Wow. It is good! I didn’t think pecan cream would be.”
“Just like home, really,” he chuckles. He takes another bite and turns his gaze ahead. As he chews, the smile slowly fades away and his eyes sadden.
“What’s really been on your mind, Warren?” I ask, though I have an idea. Death, death, and more death. Danica has been keeping a watchful eye, but I want to hear it from him personally.
He’s quiet so long I think he’s either ignoring me or didn’t hear me.
“I never told you the whole truth about Momma and Dad,” he finally says.
I try not to frown. “What truth?”
He lowers the roll to his lap, glancing at Danica who is already watching us but keeping her distance. He swings his eyes to mine again, mashing his lips together. When his head drops, I worry he won’t tell me anything at all, so I place my hand on top of his.
“Warren?” I call.
He looks down at our hands as two tears skid down his cheeks. “That time I visited Dad,” he starts, swiping at the tears. “It was because I had this dream of Momma. It was so…vivid. I remember every detail. She was in the bathtub. She’d slit her wrists, and as she bled, she looked at me and told me to find Dad.”
My throat closes in on itself. Momma died in the clinic. She’d swapped pills with another patient, built a concoction over a period of time, and died from overdose. I wait for him to continue.
“I went looking for him, and it’s true he sent me off and wanted nothing to do with me, but not before telling me why. I demanded to know, told him I wasn’t leaving until I knew why he abandoned us.” He sucks in a breath. “We were never their children, Willow. Momma was never pregnant with us. She fostered us first, then adopted us.”
“What?” I choke on a breath, staring at him incredulously.
“She found us after a late shift. He said she found us in a basket next to her car. Dad says Momma brought us home, took care of us. She reported that she’d found us to the police, and social services stepped in, but she told them she wanted to keep us. I guess because she couldn’t have kids of her own.”