Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 115619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
She is not her father. She’s done nothing wrong.
He can't transfer his hatred for Callum onto Tatum. It's not fair to either of us, and I can’t even consider picking between the two of them. I love my father, but Tatum understands the things my father never could.
My father’s nostrils flare, and his jaw twitches like he's fighting against whatever it is he wants to say. At least he's fighting against it. That's a good sign. “Fine,” he finally grunts. “But this isn't going to turn into a sleepover.”
“Nobody said it was.” He shakes his head, muttering to himself as he walks away, but at least he's doing that much. Going back to the kitchen, where he'll either finish eating his dinner or start on the six-pack he insisted on picking up at the store.
Something tells me I know which one it'll be.
I can't worry about that now. I haven't even gotten into the drinking situation with him, and I know better than to think he'd do anything except shoot me down for bringing it up.
I turn my attention to Tatum, whose face isn’t as red anymore. She still looks shaken. Her angry gaze remains trained on the kitchen doorway until I motion for her to follow me. “Come on. We’ll go up to my room.” What a shame he had to be the one to answer the door, because having her here is a massive relief otherwise. I don't have to pretend as much when we’re together. There aren’t as many secrets I have to remember not to spill.
Although now, I have the super fun privilege of having to pretend my dad doesn't hold her dad accountable for Mom's death. I honestly can't remember the last time I went through life without having to remind myself of everything I'm not supposed to talk about. There are so many secrets. If I get out of this with my sanity intact, it'll be a goddamn miracle.
When we reach my room, and I close us inside, she sighs and sort of deflates, then sags against the chair, letting her head droop as she recovers from the sudden nastiness downstairs. “What’s his problem? He's never acted like that before.”
“Would it help if I said it’s not you but him? He’s going through some things.” I face her with my back against the door, trying to smile. “Hi.”
“Hi,” she whispers, biting her lip. “You're not mad at me, are you?”
“No! Why would you think that?”
“I've been trying to get a hold of you for two days, and all I got was a single text telling me you were here and you were fine.” Her eyes sparkle with unshed tears and there’s a catch in her voice.
Right away, it makes me see everything from a different perspective. And I feel like shit about it. She had a breakdown at the hotel, and by the time she woke up at home the next day, I was gone with no explanation.
“I'm sorry.” When I extend my arms out, she rushes into them, wrapping her slim arms around me to return my hug. It’s easy to think of her as being tough and having her shit together. Like she doesn’t really need anyone. I can’t make that mistake, not after seeing her fall apart as she did. “It's just... I couldn't take all the other calls and texts. I finally had to turn my phone off. I don't want to block his number, but...”
She’s shaking her head when she pulls back. “Okay, that’s fine. I just don’t want to worry that you’ll disown me because of him.”
“I would never.” Nevertheless, I can see how she would think that, and after everything she's been through, it makes sense. “I've been a shitty friend the past few days, and I'm sorry.”
“We're both kind of a mess right now, aren't we?” At least she tries to laugh, even if it doesn't ring true. She's fighting hard to keep it together, that much is obvious.
We both sit on the foot of the bed, angling our bodies to face each other. “How are you holding up?” I ask, touching her shoulder gently. “How are you feeling?”
She blurts out a disbelieving laugh. “You would jump right in and worry about me. You're the one who—”
I shake my head, holding a finger to my lips, glancing at the door. Understanding touches the corners of her eyes, and she nods. “You're the one who had to come here when shit went south.”
It's like talking in code, although it's the only way I feel safe. To think, I thought Dad would lose his mind if he found out about Callum before this evening. I had no clue. All I can do is be thankful I was so careful about keeping our relationship discreet.
“I'm fine,” I lie. I've never been farther away from fine in my life, except lying is better than admitting the truth right now. “Dad's sort of a mess, though. I'm really sorry he was so rude to you.”