Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
How can I let something like that go?
“Did Brittney find anything out about your birth mom?”
“Not much. My dad went out of his way to make her disappear. Brittney found out her name was Tia and that she’s dead.”
“I’m so sorry, Q.” Aspen sniffles like she is about to cry. “I love that name. Tia…”
“Yeah, it’s a pretty name.”
“Why do you think your dad kept it from you?”
“I really don’t know why he does half the things he does. Maybe he didn’t want me to treat Ella differently. I feel weird calling her Ella, even in my head,” I admit, feeling oddly comfortable sharing my thoughts with Aspen. My brain must have frost damage or something.
“I’m sure it is. I mean, she’s the only mom you’ve ever known.”
“Yeah… but I still want to know what happened to my birth mother. I owe her that much.”
“Why do you think you owe her anything?”
Logically, I know it’s not my fault. I was just a baby, but part of me feels so fucking guilty about forgetting her. I should have remembered her. I should have somehow held on to her. She is part of me, just like I am part of her. An invisible connection that I let slip through my fingers, and now I will never get it back.
7
ASPEN
Quinton shuts down after our conversation, and with his silence, the day drags on, and cabin fever sets in. I don’t like thinking of how close Quinton and I are getting because then I’ll have to think about how much it’s going to hurt once we get back to Corium and everything goes back to normal.
My leg is throbbing, and I would do just about anything for some Tylenol. Quinton sits on the bed beside me, lost in thought. The silence is suffocating, and I need to do something or say something to stop it.
Adjusting myself on the bed, I grit my teeth at the pain that radiates down my leg with the movement.
“Who would’ve thought that I’d be here someday?”
Quinton turns to me, a brow lifted, confusion riddling his features. “What are you talking about?”
“I mean, who would’ve thought that I’d end up here. At Corium… well, technically, in the university's forest, but you get the point.”
“I’m guessing attending Corium wasn’t your choice?” Quinton asks like he’s truly interested in hearing what I have to say.
I shake my head, “No. My parents told me I had to go. The risk of someone coming after me for my father’s wrongdoings was too high, and believe it or not, I plan to live a long and happy life. So, to stay safe, we agreed Corium was the best option.”
There’s a pause, and Quinton scratches the back of his head. He’s looking at me like he sees me—really sees me—and it’s terrifying because it’s been a very long time since someone looked at me like that, and to be seen instead of being looked through makes me vulnerable.
“What were you going to do if you didn’t attend Corium?”
His question makes me smile, and my cheeks heat. I’ve never told anyone what my true dreams were, and for a minute, I sit here awestruck.
“Uhh…” I stumble over my words a bit. “I wanted to go to school to be a doctor. I’ve always loved helping people, and the human body is intriguing.”
“You can still become a doctor.”
“No, that ship has sailed. No one is going to accept me into their medical program, especially not after I graduate from Corium. I’ll have nothing to show for the four years spent there.”
“That’s not true. The school will give you any official degree you need.”
“That might work for most, but I actually need to know all the medical stuff. I can’t do any continued education without knowing the basics in that field.”
Quinton frowns, and I must admit I don’t like the look on him. I’d much rather have his psychopathic grin or sexy smirk than see him frowning at me.
“It’s funny you mention wanting to be a doctor. Adela wanted to become a nurse.”
This conversation has taken a sudden nosedive into forbidden territory, and I’m not sure if I should encourage him to continue talking about his sister or change the subject.
Before I get the chance, he is continuing, “My father used to tell her she could be whatever she wanted, that she could do whatever she wanted.” I swear I see tears swimming in his eyes, and I look away, wanting to give him a moment of privacy.
“Adela loved to help others; she was kind and smart, and fuck…” A heavy sigh passes his lips. “I miss her.”
A knot forms in my throat, and I swallow around it. “I’m sorry about everything that happened. About what my father did, and how it affected your family when you were grieving.”
The look of vulnerability drains from his face, and his features harden as he wipes his eyes, appearing to realize that he’s showing weakness.