Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
At least let me know if he leaves, and where he plans on going, if so.
He must’ve told Theo about what’s happening with Coach Greg, but Hayes interrupted us before I could find out for sure. Maybe he’ll have the guts to say something to somebody who could stop this, since Franky clearly doesn’t.
Lucy’s in bed now, sleeping. I’m as quiet as I can be when I check on her. Hopefully she forgets what happened earlier, but I doubt it. I’ve never forgotten the things Mom has done to me, even back when I was this age.
I lean over her, brushing her away from her forehead before kissing her smooth skin. “You’re gonna be fine,” I whisper, even if I’m not sure how to make that happen. I used to look forward to the day I moved out and went to college, but now it only makes me afraid for her. It’s obvious Mom has no plans to change her ways. She can marry all the rich men she wants, but that will never make her a better person.
And if Mr. Ambrose finds out, and this arrangement ends, she’ll only get worse. I don’t even want to imagine it.
I carry my phone around with me as I go to my room, only putting it down to change into pajamas. I take it to the bathroom, leaving it on the counter while I wash my tear-stained face. I keep glancing at it just in case a message comes through, but so far there’s nothing. Looks like this is another night where I won’t be getting any sleep.
I’m starting to wonder if life was better back when we were at the hotel. Before we moved in here, before I started at school. It seems like everything only got worse since then. At least Lucy was happy when we were there, though, I know most of that had to do with me trying to make the whole thing an adventure instead of what it really was: an eviction without a backup plan. I guess Mr. Ambrose was the backup plan.
I don’t know what makes me do it. Maybe I need to connect with different times to escape the time I’m in right now. I open my photos app and scroll through. Most of the pictures are of Lucy, of course. In the pool, in our room the day we pretended we were down at the spa. I took a picture of her wearing one of the complimentary bathrobes, with her hair wrapped in a towel turban and cucumber slices over her eyes. It makes me laugh a little, something I wouldn’t have done otherwise.
The rest of my photos are in the cloud, saved in our account. I guess I’m desperate for something to lift my mood, so I pull out my laptop and log in. Now I can look back on the last few years. Lucy’s first birthday party, the cake I made for her. Her first steps. Bath time, which was always her favorite. She was so little—she’s little now, but compared to these pictures, she’s a big, grown-up girl.
I want so much for her to feel happy and safe. To feel loved. What should I do? Stay here forever? Go to school nearby, so I don’t have to move out? But that would mean living with my mother for at least the next four years, too. Can I stand that?
Especially when she has a new baby to spoil? A reason to ignore Lucy even more than she already did? Bridget’s nice, but she’s no replacement for a mother. I wish I didn’t feel so guilty, but I know how bad things could get. What if Lucy thinks I abandoned her?
This isn’t making me feel better anymore. I close out my folder, which takes me back to the main account. The only other folder consists of Mom’s stuff since Lucy’s too young to have a phone, obviously.
I’d close the entire window if it wasn’t for the thumbnail preview in front of Mom’s folder. It stops me, freezes me in place. I don’t even blink.
I can’t be seeing what I think I’m seeing. It’s tiny, the pic, but it’s familiar—because I’ve seen it before. Both on a screen and in person. Hayes’s erect dick.
The dick pic from last weekend. It’s in Mom’s cloud account. He sent it to… her? Which means she must’ve been the one who asked for it?
No. Not my mom. My brain won’t accept it. This can’t be real.
But it’s here in front of me. The files are from her phone. It must have been her.
I wouldn’t click on the folder if a sick, twisted certainty wasn’t settling into my bones. I need to know I’m not imagining this. Even if it’s awful, I have to see it. Hayes is the one who’s been suffering through it. I can’t turn away now when he’s the one who’s falling apart because of what I think I’m about to find.