Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26073 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 130(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26073 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 130(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
"She asked my dad to recommend her for the internship," Jillian blurts. "He said no."
"What?"
"That's why she's pretending to be me. It's not because she wants anything from you. It's because it was the only way for her to live her dream."
I stare at her for a long moment, trying to process. "He told December no, but he wrote a recommendation for you?"
"Yes." Jillian peeks over her shoulder into the darkened apartment before stepping outside and closing the door.
"Does this happen often?"
"If you mean does he treat her differently, then yes," Jillian whispers.
Son of a bitch.
"Why?" I growl.
"Because his career is more important than his family." Jillian shrugs. "Because his dreams matter more to him than hers. I don't know. December can be clumsy and awkward, and she leads with her heart. She says what she feels, even if it's not the party line. I guess he's afraid she'll ruin his precious campaign."
Cold fury crawls up my spine. That motherfucker treats her poorly because she doesn't toe the line? Because she's clumsy? Fuck, I love how clumsy and awkward she is. She's the worst intern we've ever had, hands down. But she doesn't give up, no matter how much shit she drops or spills.
Grace doesn't make a designer. Skill does. She has that in spades. And she's eager to learn. She's sweet and patient and willing to do whatever she's asked. She soaks up every experience like a sponge, eager for it.
How much more confident would she be if she had someone in her corner who believed in her? If she hadn't spent her entire life with her own stepfather ashamed of her for being who she is?
Hell will freeze over before Cory Rhett gets an endorsement from me or our company. The only thing he's getting from me is my shoe permanently lodged in his ass and my fist in his face.
"Tell December that I'll see her tomorrow," I say to Jillian, already making plans.
She reaches out, placing her hand on my arm. "What are you going to do?" She fidgets nervously. "I mean, I know it's not my business, but she's my sister. The way he treats her isn't right."
"No, it isn't," I agree quietly. "And it won't be happening anymore. I'll make sure of that."
Tears well in Jillian's eyes, her shoulders slumping as if a great weight just lifted from them. "Thank you," she whispers, clearing her throat. "For the record, it was my idea for her to pose as me."
I kind of figured as much. I'm guessing there isn't much this girl wouldn't do for the people she loves. She's fierce and fiercely loyal to those who deserve it.
I start down the sidewalk and then pause, glancing over my shoulder at her. "Out of curiosity, were the sketches you included with the application yours or hers?"
"They're hers," Jillian says. "They're all hers."
Chapter Nine
December
"Alaric stopped by last night," Jillian says, eyeing me over the rim of her coffee mug. "I told him that you didn't want to see him."
"I don't," I lie, carefully avoiding her gaze. The truth is, I feel like a jerk for running out. If he thinks the worst about me, can I really blame him?
I'm the one lying. I'm the one pretending to be someone I'm not. If he thinks I'm using him for something, it's my own stupid fault for not telling him the truth sooner. But I didn't think about it that way last night. At least not until I was at home in my bed, staring up at the ceiling and missing his sexy smirk.
"You should talk to him, December."
I look at Jillian this time. "What happened to 'forget about the big jerk'?" I demand. "That's what you said last night."
"That's before I met the big jerk." She grimaces, somehow managing to look guilty and amused at the same time. "He likes you, December. Like crawl through a blizzard in his underwear likes you. Don't let that slip through your fingers because you're afraid."
"Who said I'm afraid? I'm not afraid."
"Liar," Jillian says. "We both know that's why you really ran last night. You're in love with him and you're terrified he doesn't feel the same."
"What if he doesn't?" I whisper, staring into my coffee like it holds the answers to the universe.
"What if he does?" she retorts.
I glance up at her again.
"You'll never know if you never stop running."
She's right, dang it. I am in love with him. And when he said what he did, it hurt because I thought he couldn't possibly think that if he felt the same way about me. So I ran. I'm good at running. It's easier to protect my heart if I never risk it.
But if I never risk it, I'll spend the rest of my life dreaming about him...just like I've spent the last six years dreaming about him. I never forgot him for a reason. And he never forgot me either.