Total pages in book: 213
Estimated words: 201920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1010(@200wpm)___ 808(@250wpm)___ 673(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 201920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1010(@200wpm)___ 808(@250wpm)___ 673(@300wpm)
I remember thinking how much I wish I didn’t want him to be here as I drifted to sleep, feeling his eyes on me. But I did. I had no one. And of everyone in this place, he was the only one I wanted. So, if that was the way I could have him, I’d take it.
I don’t know if he heard me later that night when I woke up and started to cry out of nowhere. I confessed how much I missed him and how lonely I was as I wiped the tears away, still huddled in my spot, gripping the pillow. Or maybe that part was a dream. It’s hard to know anymore.
SEBASTIAN
“Well, you only have one more year,” I tell Carter.
“I don’t have time for it,” he answers me as he bounces the old tennis ball against the worn brick of the building.
“You don’t have time for school?” I ask him in a tone that’s as filled with disbelief as my expression is. “Remind me again, where is it that you make your money?”
Carter’s being a dipshit. “You don’t need to start working for Romano. You need to graduate, and you can make that extra cash from the schoolyard.”
He’s a dealer at Crescent Hills High, only pot but he makes some good cash since he’s the only one with good shit in this area. The only other dealers are past Walnut Street and the highway that runs behind it, but those are claimed territories, one of them being Romano’s.
“Romano’s never going to hire you anyway since you’re Irish.”
I feel like a prick reminding him that he’ll never be trusted, but it’s for his own damn good. He should be focused on finishing school and then he can figure out a way to go down south and make some good cash at the fishery on the docks or some other shit. Something better than this.
“You don’t get it.” His voice is tight and his teeth are clenched. “We have bills.”
He throws the ball harder at the wall and catches it after it ricochets with a force that sounds like it hurt. “You forget there’s more than one person I have to look after.”
It fucking hurts every time he brings it up. To me, he’s my kid brother. To him, he’s the older brother taking care of his family. A family I’m not a part of.
“It’s good money,” I remind him. “Both the fishery and the pot. Romano’s not going to pay you shit.”
I’m still shaking my head when he looks back at me. “Because I’m fucking Irish?”
“Because he doesn’t have a need for you.” I’m blunt and harsh and my stomach twists. There’s no room for him in Romano’s territory, but even if there was, I’d lie. He doesn’t have the stomach for this shit. He should be better than me. He is better than me. I get paid to fuck up people who owe money to the wrong guys, assholes who think they can steal from establishments who pay for protection. I get paid to be a villain, a thug, and a version of myself I hate. It used to help with the anger; it made me feel like there was a purpose to it all. But that’s bullshit. I fucking hate who I am, and I don’t want this life for him. I don’t want it for anyone.
It’s quiet other than the thud of the ball hitting the brick as he considers everything.
“It’s just one more year, Carter.”
“A lot can change in a year.” His voice is muted, low and defeated. I know he wants a change because of his mom, but I can’t help him there. I can’t keep her from dying. The rubble beneath my feet kicks up as I walk to the cement steps and face the parking lot.
“Is that Chloe?” Carter asks me, and I have to get up to look down the street.
Just the sight of her pulls my lips up into an asymmetric grin. “Yeah, that’s her.”
“So much for picking her up,” he tells me with a glint in his eyes. I check my watch and see she’s early, then peek back up at her.
With her jeans hugging her curves, I watch as she walks up the street, not taking my eyes off her.
“Real quick,” Carter tries to get my attention, so I give him a short hum of an answer to let him know I heard him, but I refuse to look away from her as she walks to me.
“Can you come with me to give my dad that money?” His question is enough to break the stare I have on her. He adds, “Tomorrow night?”
“Yeah, of course,” I answer him with a shrug like it’s no big deal. His mom’s bills are adding up, so I’m loaning him some cash to keep them afloat. But the last time I did that, Carter’s dad laid into him, thinking he stole it and wanting to know from where.