Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 119230 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119230 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
With that, I turn my back and walk away, hating the traitorous tears that roll down my cheeks.
Jensen gives me a pitying stare and I avoid his eyes as I climb back into his car. “I don’t want to hear it.”
He glances away, watching the boys try to tackle Tanner into submission. “I wasn’t going to say anything.”
“Good.”
Jensen gets in and closes the door, his car rumbling to life, and as he hits the gas and turns around, I can’t help but glance up at the boys on the track, Riley only just getting to his feet as Logan and Jax pull Tanner back toward Logan’s Dodge RAM. He fights them with every step, and as Jensen rolls away, Tanner looks back toward me, pain in his eyes and his heart broken on his sleeve, knowing damn well he just lost the best thing that ever happened to him.
Chapter 36
BRIELLE
The early morning sun shines through my bedroom window as I stare up at the ceiling. Hell, I haven’t stopped staring at the ceiling since the moment I got back into bed.
Last night was shit. I said some things, Tanner said some things, and while I know deep in my heart that he didn’t mean any of it, it doesn’t keep the sting from tearing me apart. He needed to scream, needed to push everybody away to be able to feel something, and I volunteered myself as tribute.
How fucking stupid was that? All I know is the things he said, I don’t think we’ll be able to come back from. I was his personal punching bag. Nothing was off-limits and he went in for the kill, shattering every single one of my insecurities. I told him I was done, and honestly, I think I really meant it.
Today is going to be interesting.
If I were smart, I’d stay right here. I’d whine and complain about how badly my injuries are hurting from the wreck yesterday and Mom will happily turn a blind eye to my absence from school, but as much as I don’t want to be there, the thought of not having a perfect attendance record kills something inside me. Call me a nerd or a loser, but there’s nothing I won’t face to ensure I appear to be a perfect student for every last college in the country.
Peeling myself out of bed, I trudge into the bathroom and go about my morning. The sun has barely appeared in the sky, so I have plenty of time to waste away in a hot shower. I try to wash my hair but end up only getting halfway through after realizing just how hard it is. Any movement which involves raising my arm above my head can be strictly cut from my routine today.
Adjusting myself under the spray, I rinse off what I can and shut off the shower before pulling my towel firmly around me. I spend a good ten minutes rubbing cream into my injuries and cringing at the way the bruise has developed over my ribs. It's bad, so fucking bad, but it still pales in comparison to the emotional wounds I carry from last night.
Pain rocks through me as I do my best to tape my ribs, but I force myself through it quickly, all too aware that the sooner I get it done, the sooner I can breathe again. Feeling too messed up to bother with makeup, I pull on a clean uniform and make my way downstairs.
Mom’s over-the-top laugh flows up from the kitchen and something constricts around my heart, holding it captive. I haven’t seen her since she left for Paris on Friday night without so much as a goodbye. She didn’t call or text the whole time she was gone, and when I called her yesterday from the hospital, she acted as though my call was nothing more than an inconvenience … that is until I explained Colby had T-boned me into a tree, strangled me then broke a rib. She was all too happy to play the doting mother then, though anyone would think a doting mother would have come to check on her daughter the moment she arrived back. Not mine though.
Forcing myself down the rest of the stairs, I make my way through to the kitchen, needing something in my stomach with all of these painkillers. “Oh honey,” Mom gasps from behind the kitchen island, placing the knife down on the chopping board and racing toward me. She throws her arms around me and squeezes tight.
Pain blasts through my body and for a moment, I think I could pass out. Tears immediately spring to my eyes and I shove her away with a ferocity I wasn’t aware I was capable of. “MOM. STOP,” I scream, gripping my ribs and trying not to pass out.