Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 142801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
“What?”
“This is all such bullshit. But I really don’t care anymore.” All things considered, I think I’m being quite restrained. I haven’t once mentioned peanut butter, his EpiPen, or the wooden onesie I sometimes dream of putting him in. “What you did was lowest of the low.”
“No, not the lowest.” The words are expelled on a burst of ugly laughter. “Not by a fucking mile. I know I was wrong. I screwed up—didn’t tell you the truth.”
“Stop. I don’t care!”
“Evie, fucking Deubel?” He shoves his hand violently through his hair. “I’m nowhere near as bad as him.”
What is it with this pair?
“I’m leaving.” Done with this. I push past him—properly this time, hating how my bare shoulder brushes against him.
“What did he tell you about me and Lucy?”
“Urgh.” With a harsh shake of my head, I keep moving. It always comes back to frickin’ Lucy!
“But I bet he didn’t tell you his part—I know he didn’t say who she was.”
Every atom of my being revolts at his words. I know I should push on, that no good can come from hearing this, yet my steps begin to slow, like I can’t help myself.
“Spit it out,” I demand, canting my head over my shoulder. “What are you trying to tell me? Did she die?” Could this be why Oliver is so cut up?
In the darkness, Mitchell shakes his head. “No, she didn’t. Not that she didn’t try.”
“How do you try to die?” I throw my arm out in a careless gesture as I turn, my brain catching up a split second too late. “You’re full of shit,” I say, my blood turning icy cold as I pivot away.
“I fucked her, and I shouldn’t have. I lied to her. Pretended I was into her more than I was. I got her to tell me about his business, then I screwed him over, snatched the land out from under him. It was just business.”
“Unbelievable,” I whisper, horrified anew. I almost married this man.
“I was wrong, and I own up to that, but don’t tell me he’s done the same. I don’t know how he can sleep at night.”
“Go away, Mitch,” I yell, but the gravel behind me crunches anyway.
“He told her he’d never forgive her.” His hand grips my shoulder, and he spins me to face him. “He said things he couldn’t take back. I made her cry, but his rejection made her want to die.”
But that’s not how a mental break works. Besides: “You can’t even admit your own part in it.”
“Because it wasn’t my fault!”
I blink, disbelief echoing through me. Whatever Oliver did, maybe he pegged Mitch right. Maybe he is a narcissist.
“I wasn’t meant to look out for her—she’s not my fucking sister.”
Like a clunk of gears, everything suddenly drops into place. Lucy wasn’t just his employee. “My God. His sister? No wonder he hates you.”
“Not as much as he hates himself. I might’ve fucked her, but he was the one who fucked her over.”
I turn away. I’m not cold anymore. I’m numb but for the swirl of sickness in my belly. Why didn’t Oliver tell me?
“He disowned his own sister,” he calls after me, his poison continuing to pour out. “Sent her packing because she made a mistake. Because she had a relationship with me behind his back.”
I spin around to face him. “His back? What about mine?” A slight overlap, so Mitch had said last time. But this right here is a different tack, so what does he hope to achieve this time around? Make me run from Oliver like I ran from him? A huff leaves my throat. This isn’t the same. It hurts that Oliver didn’t tell me—that maybe he felt he couldn’t trust me at one point. Maybe it hurts him to remember. Whatever the reason, we’ll talk it over. Because his heart chooses mine.
“It just sort of happened.”
My laughter rings through the night air. “Give me a break. You planned it. Just like you planned to use me. You strung us both along—her for some land, me for this fucking house!” I shout, glancing up at the ancient stone. This place, I bet it’s witnessed some scenes over its long years, but nothing as bizarre as this.
“Yeah, for this house—the one you’re lying for right now. Why, Evie? Why him?”
“Make up your mind. Last time, you accused me of sleeping with him while planning our marriage. Which is it, huh?”
“I don’t fucking know!” he yells. “I can’t make it out, but what I do know is I’m not the one who drove his sister to try to kill herself.”
“Nothing is ever your fault, is it?”
“It’s not like I gave her the pills!”
As I reach the door, I push my way inside the grand hall, not caring about the crush of people or whether Mitchell follows me.