Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 162003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 810(@200wpm)___ 648(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 810(@200wpm)___ 648(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
Brayden glanced at Norma again, his eyes filling with a rage I’d never seen in him before. It fizzled out a moment later as he collapsed back onto the sofa beside me.
“We can’t compete with that,” he said. “What the fuck are we gonna’ do?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But I thought maybe we could talk some sense into her, together.”
A dry laugh squeezed from his chest as he dismissed my suggestion entirely. “She isn’t gonna’ fucking listen to us, Brighton. Are you even hearing yourself right now? When has she ever chosen us over any damn thing?”
“Well, I don’t know what else we’re supposed to do,” I bit out. “We can’t force her to go to rehab. And I can’t babysit her for the rest of my life. I’m going to have to get a job soon.”
A strange calm washed over Brayden’s face as his head fell back against the sofa and he closed his eyes.
“Just let me think on it for a while,” he said. “That’s what we’re going to do.”
***
I woke up in a cold sweat, clutching my pillow against my chest.
I had dreamt of Ryland again. The same dream I’d had every night since I’d been back in Illinois. His hands on my body, his lips on my skin. The heat of his chest pressing against my back. I called out to him, but he didn’t answer. I reached for him with my hand. Usually, I could feel him, somewhere in the darkness. But not this time. I didn’t feel him at all.
I reached for my phone and looked for one of his texts. There weren’t any since yesterday morning. My stomach clenched.
I opened the messages from Nicole that I’d been avoiding all week, scrolling through them. She said she was worried about him, and he looked really bad. He was snapping at everyone around the office, missing appointments, and forgetting things. Important things, from the sounds of it. But I couldn’t do anything else for Ryland. I had to remind myself and her of that. He needed to get help. Help I wasn’t qualified to give him. I didn’t know how to deal with grief on a small scale, let alone a catastrophic one. I didn’t know how to be torn between him and my family. Because no matter what I did, someone would get hurt.
I wiped my bleary eyes and dragged myself from the room. As I walked down the hall, Norma’s tiny frame came into view. She peered out the curtains, tapping her foot anxiously.
“What are you doing?” I headed straight for the Fruit Loops and grabbed a handful before I sat down on one of the rickety kitchen chairs.
Her gaze swung to me, and I could see the wheels turning in her brain before she even opened her mouth.
“I gotta get out of this house,” she snapped. “But I need some money. You got any?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Why?”
“What does it matter why?” she asked. “I just do.”
I shrugged and went back to eating my cereal, knowing that the argument wouldn’t end there. I never had to push with Norma. For a master manipulator, she was actually quite easy to manipulate herself, when she was desperate enough.
“I had some in my purse,” she said sourly. “I know I did. I didn’t go nowhere last night. But this morning it was gone.”
I snorted at her predicament and mentally reminded myself to thank Brayden later. I was surprised he wasn’t up already since it was past eleven. I didn’t usually sleep in this late myself, but it was becoming a habit lately.
I polished off the rest of the cereal I'd shoved into my mouth and walked down the hall, ignoring Norma’s grumbling.
When I knocked on Brayden’s door, he didn’t answer. I pushed it open quietly, expecting to find him asleep. But one glance at the bed and my mouth went dry. He hadn’t slept in it last night. And his backpack was gone too.
I carried myself towards the living room with jerky, awkward movements. The house was so quiet. Too fucking quiet.
“How much money?” My voice was sandpaper in my throat.
“What?” Norma shouted, spinning away from the curtain again.
“How much money is missing?” I repeated.
She scratched her head and pretended to think about it for a moment though I knew better. Norma always knew how much money she had in her purse. And exactly how much that would buy her.
“How much?” I growled.
“A thousand bucks!” she spat. “I know I didn’t misplace it.”
“Where’s Brayden?”
“Huh?”
I wanted to slap that idiotic expression off her face. She was wasting my time with her drug-addled brain.
“Where the hell is Brayden?”
“How should I know?” she shrugged. “He never leaves the couch usually. He’s probably in his room sleeping.”
“He isn’t.”
It dawned on me with sickening slowness. The conversation we’d had the night before. The calm expression on his face. I knew exactly where Brayden was. Or at least where he was going.