Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 130380 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130380 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
I didn’t know how long I had been sitting there when suddenly a hot mug of tea was presented in front of my face.
I blinked, coming back to earth and following the hand that held the mug up to find my mother staring down at me.
The older I got, the more I saw how much I favored my mother. It wasn’t just her long, thick hair that I had, too, or her fair skin. It wasn’t her plump bottom lip that matched mine, or the way our eyes were the same emerald green. It was that I saw the sadness that felt so at home in my eyes reflected in hers, saw the determination that filled me emanating from her, too. She held her chin high, her shoulders square, never afraid to say what she meant or to face anything that scared her.
I was more like her than I ever realized before.
When I didn’t immediately take the mug from her hand, she nudged it closer, and I held the blanket tight around me with one fist as I reached my other hand out to take hold of the handle. Once I had it, Mom sat down primly on the couch next to me, sitting nearly on the edge of it as she daintily lifted her cup to her mouth and took a sip.
Our outdoor furniture was so spotless it looked like it belonged inside, the white cushions crisp and clean, the teak wood that framed it pristine and beautiful. I remembered when Mom picked out the set, when Dad had instructed the movers where to put it all just to have Mom change her mind and Dad and my brother had to move it all around again.
But once she had it the way she liked it, it never moved again.
It also never wore a speck of dust longer than a few hours.
I didn’t have anything to say, not even to acknowledge my surprise at her joining me on the deck. She’d barely talked to me since I’d been home — mostly because I’d holed up in my room — and whenever she did talk to me, it was to press me for what I was going to do next, how I was going to move on.
As if I knew.
But I was thankful for the hot tea, the first sip warming me all the way down to my toes.
“Thank you,” I croaked, my throat in shit shape after all the crying and late nights of no sleep.
Mom nodded, her back still ramrod straight as she took a sip of her own tea and then cradled the mug between her hands.
She looked out over the beautifully curated yard she’d created over the years — the garden that would make Holden have wet dreams, the man-made pond and fountain, the stone walkway through the beautiful trees and bushes and flowers. Birds and squirrels alike made themselves comfortable, eating the seed Mom put out each morning and swimming in the baths on hot days. This morning, however, it was quiet and still, the fog slinking in heavy patches through the space.
“So, are you going to tell me more about this boy?”
I let out a long breath, a moment of regret sinking in my stomach for having told her and Dad about Leo at all. But what happened between him and Nero was part of the reason I wanted to leave the whole situation alone, so it had to be said.
“I’d rather not,” I confessed.
“Because I’m such an evil, emotionless monster that I wouldn’t understand?” Mom assumed with a harsh laugh.
“Because I’m having trouble breathing without him in my life,” I shot back. “And I don’t really care to hold my bloody heart out for you to dissect.”
Mom turned to face me, her brows hinged together. And for the first time in years, I saw genuine concern in her eyes, like she hated that I was in pain and she couldn’t do anything about it. She’d used to look at me that way when I was sick, as if she’d rather be the one with the stomach flu than to see me go through it.
“Maybe talking about it will help rather than hurt,” she offered.
I didn’t respond. I’d talked at length about it to the girls, each of them listening and waiting for when I asked them for their advice. I was thankful they didn’t just offer it without the cue, because the truth was I didn’t know if I was ready to do anything about any of it.
Because if I was to do something, that would mean one of two things — either I’d forgive Leo and go back, or I’d not forgive him and leave him behind.
Both options made my chest impossibly tight.
“How did you meet?” Mom asked when I didn’t speak.
A laugh of a breath left my nose. “Playing Halo.”