Total pages in book: 241
Estimated words: 234779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1174(@200wpm)___ 939(@250wpm)___ 783(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 234779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1174(@200wpm)___ 939(@250wpm)___ 783(@300wpm)
Scowling at me with distrust I haven’t seen in his eyes since that first day I encountered him on this bridge, he says, “Why would you even be willing to do that after what I just did to you at lunch today?”
“I don’t care about that. I mean, I do…” I look down, sighing. “I do, but… not enough that I want you gone.”
For a moment, there’s silence aside from the natural noise of being in the woods. There’s something almost like regret in his voice when he finally speaks. “You might not, but your mom will. Even if she would have agreed to that before, she won’t now.”
“I won’t tell her.”
“She’ll find out. If you don’t crack—which you probably will—she’ll find out some other way. Be realistic, Riley. You know your mom better than I do, and just from what you’ve told me and what I’ve seen for myself… there’s no way.”
He’s right. I want him to be wrong, but he’s not. I might have the capacity to forgive him for intentionally hurting me, but my mom wouldn’t. She was skeptical of him when she had nothing to go on but a bad feeling, disliked him for failing to show up on time to a date. If she finds out he told the whole school he had sex with me just to get back at me for telling his secret, she’ll loathe him for the rest of her natural life—and into the next, if reincarnation is a thing.
“There has to be some other way around this,” I say.
“There’s not.”
“You don’t have grandparents or an aunt or uncle—?”
“Riley,” he says, raising his voice to get my attention.
I look up at him.
“Just stop,” he says, like it’s that easy. “It’s over. It’s done.”
I take a shallow breath and then another. I can’t accept that. I can’t accept that he’s going away because of me and there’s nothing I can do to fix it.
Hunter already has, though. Hands still shoved into his pockets, he starts making his way across the bridge. He pauses when he gets to me and leans a little closer. “See? I may have ruined your reputation, but you ruined my life.”
I draw on every ounce of strength within me to keep standing when all I want to do is collapse. Tears burn behind my eyes, but I don’t let them fall. It’s a good thing he’s standing close, because I can’t get out much beyond a whisper. “I’m so sorry.”
With a knowing little nod, he says, “Not sorry enough, though. Don’t worry. You will be.”
A chill travels down my spine and my gaze snaps to his. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“They may be able to ship me out of the country for now, but in a few years, I’ll be 18.” Hunter bends down and picks up the backpack he bought me. He holds it out for me to take and I do, a bit woodenly. Then he smiles, and it’s one of his not-so-nice smiles. “I’ll be back for you, Riley.”
“Hunter…”
He reaches out to touch my face, but this time the chill in his eye makes the touch unbearable.
I turn my face away, looking at the water instead of at him. Like cornered prey hoping if I avoid eye contact, the predator hunting me will get bored and wander away.
He’s going away, all right, but my predator isn’t easily distracted. He has a long memory and an axe to grind, and as he speaks again, dread gathers in the pit of my stomach.
“You ruined my life. It’s only fair I return the favor.”
I don’t say anything to that. He doesn’t expect me to.
Dropping his hand, he looks at me one last time, then he crosses the bridge and heads off in the direction of his house.
Even now, in this moment, I still don’t want him to go. I don’t know if I’m more worried that he’ll start a new life there and completely forget about me, or he’ll be true to his word and come back for me when he’s old enough and nobody can stop him.
I don’t know what the future holds for us, but I do have a sinking feeling that if I ever see Hunter Maxwell again… he’ll make me wish I hadn’t.
PART TWO
Chapter Twelve
Riley
Four years later
“How are we out of coffee?”
I stand in front of the coffee pot, chagrined as I hold the useless filter in one hand and stare into the empty canister on the counter. And I do mean empty. It would appear that when Mom made a pot yesterday morning, she turned the can over and beat on the bottom to get the very last of it out.
“Mom! Did you buy coffee?” I call down the hall toward the bathroom where she’s getting ready.
“Don’t kill me,” she calls back, sapping my will to live. “I meant to last night, but I forgot. I’ll stop and get some after work.”