Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
It’s been a year, and I’m every bit as empty as the moment when I first heard those words.
Aspen grips the letter like it’s all she has left of her brother, and if she can just do this, then maybe…maybe it won’t hurt so much. Maybe she’ll have a part of Jace back. Maybe she can hold onto a part of him and never let go.
“I’m so sorry, Aspen, but whatever we do isn’t going to bring him back.”
Her eyes flash. Even when I’m trying not to be an asshole, I apparently still suck. “I know that! He’s dead. My brother is dead. I’m never going to see him again, and neither are you, which makes this even more important. He wrote this, planned it, wanted it for us. I think that’s something. So, real or not, I think we should at least attempt it. You don’t have to like me, and I don’t have to like you, but we could try for a few weeks, and then that’s that. At the very least, we could get to know each other and try to be friends, even if we’d be the least likely of friends that ever existed. Because that’s what Jace wanted. He wanted you to look after me. And me to look after you. He wanted neither one of us to be alone. If he thought we needed this, then I’m not going to say he was wrong.”
“Even if he was?”
A quick lighting strike in a sea of blue anger. This girl might look sweet and young and innocent, but she’s got the same fire driving her that her brother had. I bet she’s like an old rusty nail that works its way right through the sole of your boot until it stabs you through the foot. Hella persistent and stubborn. Something you never saw coming and impossible to just pluck out and forget about.
“He wasn’t wrong.” Her fingers clamp down so hard on the paper that it crinkles, and she looks down in surprise and horror and quickly smoothes it out against her chest.
“Are you sure it’s not a joke?”
“It’s not a joke!” She gives me the what in the ever-loving hell is wrong with you look. “He wouldn’t joke about something like this. I don’t care if there aren’t two people in the world less suited for each other. He wasn’t kidding.”
“Less suited.” I can work with that. “You’re right. We’re completely unsuited to each other. From what I know about you, you’re sweet, good, and kind. You’re the kind of sister who drops everything and wrecks her life just to honor her brother. You’re brave. Bold. You’re probably funny like him. You’re beautiful. And then there’s me. We’re just not…trust me. We would be a disaster together. It’ll be much better if we remain distant friends. You can add me to social media. I’ll create a profile just for you.”
“Fuck off,” she snarls, shocking me with her ferocity. “You’re not the only one who has social media. I might be younger than you, and I might be smaller than you, but I’m no less—”
“I’ll take care of you, I promise. That part, I’ll fulfill. I’ll give you some money right now. Then you can go off and live your life however you want. Do anything you want to do. Give some money to your parents and make sure they’re okay too. Jace’s mom as well. I just—”
“Jace’s mom and my parents were the recipients of his life insurance policy. They’re fine. Not rich, but fine. Anyway, what the nuts? He wanted something else for us besides money. If you think I’d accept that, then you’re a real poo pants.”
She tells me to fuck off with enough venom to stop my heart, and then she uses words like poo pants? God, who is this girl?
“No. I don’t accept,” she adds with finality.
Rusty Nail. That’s who she is.
I have this terrible, sinking feeling that if I don’t agree to this, she’ll never leave me alone. She’ll never stop hounding me and guilting me. God knows I already have enough guilt. Am I afraid of her? Fucking rights, I’m afraid of her. I’m afraid that even being around her will tarnish her shine. I’m afraid that all the messed up, ugly parts of me will come to the surface, and they’ll coat her like an oil spill. Like stepping into a pit of tar. They’ll go all over her nice, clean, pristine soul, and they’ll wreck her.
I might be this mostly harmless-looking dude who hides out in this house during the day and climbs the walls at night, caged in, but I’m so far from harmless. I’ve done things I can never talk about, but they’ll always be stained on my soul.
What’s worse? Two weeks of a fake marriage to fulfill Jace’s last hopes and wishes and then a very distant friendship, or having to put up with his little sister pestering me, guilting me, and hounding me until I lose what’s left of my mind?