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)
“I don’t want your apology. It won’t bring her back, and it won’t change what happened.”
I nod. He’s right. I can’t change what happened, but I can change our futures. We can change our futures. The room falls into silence once more, and all I can hear is us breathing.
“Why were you evening wearing Adela’s bracelet that day I came storming into your room?”
“I was feeling weak, and the bracelet symbolizes strength to me. I wanted to feel strong, so I put it on, hoping it would make me feel better.”
“Did it?”
“Yes, it empowered me.”
“I’m sorry I took the bracelet. Adela gave it to you, so it belongs to you.”
That statement makes my heart swell in my chest. I can’t help but lean into his side. I know we’ll never experience another moment like this together, so I want to absorb as much of it as I can.
“She was lucky to have you as her brother.”
The air around us stirs, and I feel him pulling away, an invisible wall forming between us.
“No, she wasn’t. I should’ve tried harder. I should’ve been there more. Part of me wishes it was me that died instead of her. I’d have taken her place in a heartbeat.”
The thought of Quinton dying makes me sick to my stomach. I don’t know what I would do without him—even if he makes my life hell—I know without a doubt, I wouldn’t have survived Corium without him.
“I’m sorry… if mentioning her bothers you. I didn’t mean to upset you.” And I didn’t. There isn’t a part of me that would ever consider hurting him by bringing up Adela. That’s the lowest of low thing to do.
Quinton’s blue gaze collides with mine. “It’s not talking about her that hurts. It’s everyone acting like because she died, she’s no longer a part of our lives. Everything is different now, and she’s not here anymore, and it’s like a goddamn kick to the chest every time I think about it.”
All I can do is apologize because I don’t know what else to say. I don’t know how to make it better, especially when there is nothing that can make it better. Adela is dead, and there is no bringing her back.
After that outburst, Quinton moves over to the fire, and losing his body heat leaves me cold. I don’t know if talking to him about Adela was a good idea, especially with how much he’s pulled away, but it’s shown me a glimpse inside of him. I watch as he fiddles with two pieces of wood, whittling them down, and uses some thin rope to thread through the pieces of wood, creating what looks like a brace.
Once he’s done, he returns to my side. The mattress creaks as he moves, gently lifting my leg so that he can set it in the brace. I grit my teeth and ignore the throbbing pain.
He tightens the rope, and the brace presses into the sides of my leg, forcing it straight. It’s uncomfortable but eases some of the pressure on my hips.
“As soon as the sun rises, we’re leaving this cabin and heading back to Corium.”
I frown, staring down at the brace. “Are you sure you don’t want to go for help and then come back for me?”
The last thing I want to do is stay here, but we both know I’m more of a hindrance than anything at this point.
“I’m not leaving you here. We already talked about this, and it’s not an option, so prepare yourself. At sunrise, we’re out.”
Butterflies erupt in my belly. His words shouldn’t have such an effect on me.
Still, my lips pull up into a small smile. “We don’t even have an alarm. How the heck will you know when to wake up?”
Quinton gives me a serious look, his brows pinching together. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll be awake. I’m ready to escape this cabin and get us back to Corium.”
8
QUINTON
We leave as soon as the sun peeks out at the horizon. The sky is still mostly dark, only now an orange-purple forms in the east, ready to paint the rest of the sky.
I’m tired and hungry before we even start walking, but I put all of that aside, knowing I can always eat and sleep later. Right now, I need to get us out of here and back to Corium.
Aspen climbs on my back awkwardly, hissing in pain with the movement of her leg. I try not to make any jerky motions, but there is no way around her being in pain while we walk. I remind myself what the alternative is, which makes a little pain not seem so bad. She’ll survive a broken leg, but not staying out here in the cold without food and water.
“Are you going home for Thanksgiving?” I ask, just to take my mind off it all.