Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 57043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Finally, Renee looks up at me with tear stains all over her face. “I don't think I can cry anymore,” she says with a tired laugh. “I think that was all the tears I had in me.”
“It's okay if you have more.”
“I don't.” She shakes her shoulders. “God. I'm sorry you have to see me like this.”
“I love seeing you like this,” I say without thinking.
She frowns up at me and I clarify. “I don't like seeing you sad.” I stroke her cheek with my knuckles. “But I'm glad you can be sad in front of me.”
Renee lets out a shaky laugh. “That makes one of us.”
I sit her down on the couch and take her coat off.
There’s no fucking way either of us is going in today. Bar is closed. We’ll blame it on the weather.
I bring her a wet paper towel and wipe her face. I get her some Tylenol and a glass of water, and then I convince her to take a nap. She just needs some rest, and she'll feel so much better. She doesn't kick me out this time.
That’s progress.
Renee falls asleep almost as soon as she puts her head on the pillow, and I tiptoe out, closing the door gently behind me. I shower in her apartment and make myself look less like I slept in a hallway all night and get out just in time.
My dad texts me back. I messaged him last night to tell him what was going on. I told him and Brody. That shit can’t happen. There’s no fucking way I’m going to let that ever happen again.
Renee was wrong about me being better than her. I don't know where she got the idea that she's not good enough for me. She's perfect, and I'm just a guy who had a lot of lucky breaks in life.
I was especially lucky to have parents like mine.
And lucky enough to know people who can make problems like her father go away. Brody filled me in on details I imagine Renee wouldn’t ever want to say out loud.
I want that bastard gone. Out of her life. Out of her mother’s life.
Fucking gone. My phone pings as I stand by the counter waiting on coffee.
Robert: Yeah I know her father. And I’ve heard things.
I text back and forth with Robert and Brody. My Dad gives me his contacts and I feel somewhat better as the hour passes.
It's not much later when I hear Renee stirring in the bedroom. I knock before slipping in. She stretches out on the pillow, her face pink, blinking herself awake.
“Hey.” I sit down on the edge of the bed and run my hand up and down her arm. “Feel any better?”
“I don't have a headache anymore.” Her cheeks get redder. Staring down at her, I can’t fucking believe she kept it all to herself. Hell, the very moment I had an inkling as to what was going on, I reached out to everyone I knew for help. She shouldn’t have to take this on herself. It’s eating her alive. She murmurs, “But I'm pretty embarrassed. I'm sorry for acting that way in front of you.”
“Don't be.” I lean down and kiss her forehead, brushing her hair out of the way. It’s only then, warm on her bed that I realize how fucking tired I am.
Renee smiles a little, but then the smile fades.
“Hey,” I whisper and then remind her, “I love you.”
She gives me a small smile and says, “I love you too.”
The light coming in through Renee's bedroom window is the kind of late-December light that reminds me of the days before Christmas break in school. It reminds me of feeling like I couldn't wait for the last class to get out so that Brody and I could go hang out at each other's houses. I was never worried about anything happening when I was at home, and I want Renee to have that, too. It's a little different now, but there's no reason she and her mom can't have peace in their lives.
There's no reason at all that Renee can't live in her own place without somebody coming to the door in the middle of the night and acting like a violent animal.
I wait for her to be ready. There's still snow outside on the ground, which is a sight that nobody in Beaufort can count on seeing every year. It seems like a hopeful sign. If Beaufort can have this much snow in a single December, then Renee and I can make it. I can help her with what she's going through.
“I can't help thinking that it was my fault,” she whispers, like it’s a secret. Then she told me everything. Half of me thinks she thought I’d run. That her baggage was too much. But I’ve fallen for her head over feet and there’s nothing she could say that would make me run. Not when I have all of her. I never want to let her go.