Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
KEEP OUT! THIS MEANS YOU. This book is my personl proprty and the only other person alowd to read it is my brothr Nate Pearson.
Despite the tightness in my chest, I smiled. Not once had I ever wanted to read his stupid joke book. But it meant something to me now that he would have let me. I should have been nicer. I should have laughed more. I should have appreciated being his big brother.
I’d been planning to ask my mother if I could have the book, but holding it in my hands only made the pain in my heart worse. Setting it back in the box, I replaced the top and put it back on the shelf in the closet and shut the door. Fucking feelings. You had to bury them, or they’d suffocate you.
I’d forgotten that.
Downstairs, the scene in the living room surprised me. My mother sat on the couch holding Paisley while Emme, sitting right beside her, held the bottle as Paisley drank. Both of them looked up when I came into the room.
“I hope it’s okay that I’m holding her,” my mother said nervously, her eyes dropping back to her granddaughter’s face. “I scrubbed my hands really well, and I’m not touching the bottle at all. So I don’t think the germs will endanger her.”
“It’s fine.”
I made eye contact with Emme. She smiled at me, her eyes shining, a beautiful, calming presence in this house full of ghosts, and my heart about exploded in my chest. My legs nearly gave out. My breath stopped.
Because I loved her. I loved her. For being here with me, for understanding me, for making me feel like I wasn’t alone.
Except I would end up alone, wouldn’t I? When she was gone, when she’d given up on me, when she’d realized I couldn’t give her everything she wanted and deserved.
You couldn’t control everything in life, maybe not even your feelings, but you could control your actions. I had to walk away, or I had to push her away. The thought of doing either one made me sick to my stomach, but I told myself to be a fucking man and get over it. Harden my heart. Take control.
Make the choice.
Seventeen
Emme
“So I know the beginning was a little difficult, but overall that went okay, don’t you think?” I asked hopefully as we drove away from the house.
“I guess.” He glanced in the rearview mirror at his daughter, who was sleeping peacefully, but even that didn’t get rid of the worry lines creasing his forehead.
“At least your mom held her for a little while.”
“Yeah.”
“And she said maybe she would drive down in a couple weeks for another visit.”
“I heard her.” His tone said, but I don’t believe her.
“And wasn’t Paisley good today? I wonder if she’s saving it all up for a meltdown tonight.”
Nate frowned. “Probably.”
“Well, no worries. I’ll be there to help you. Maybe we can get takeout or something. Have a cocktail and watch a movie, just like the old days.” I wiggled happily in my seat. “It’s so nice to have a Saturday night off.”
Nate didn’t say anything.
“Hello? Does that sound like a plan?”
“What? Sure, whatever you want to do is fine with me.”
Clearly, he was too distracted to look forward to an evening together, and maybe he needed time to process the visit home. It was obvious to me that all the memories there, both good and bad, affected him deeply, as did his mother’s anxiety. If I’d thought he would talk to me about it, I would’ve asked him to. But even though he’d been more open with me over the last week—and especially last night—I didn’t get the feeling he was in the mood for conversation right now. Seemed like he wanted to brood for a bit.
I didn’t blame him for being upset. Painful memories aside, no parent wants to hear a list of all the harmful genetic conditions their child might be predisposed to, and it had to be even worse for Nate because of his brother. I’d seen the look on his face as his mother was talking, and at the word cancer, he’d gone completely white. He’d seemed a little better upstairs, but still on edge. Quiet and tense the rest of the afternoon.
But I wouldn’t push. Instead, I reached over and put my hand on his leg, hoping he’d get the message—I know that was hard for you, and I’m here if you need me.
I don’t even think he noticed it.
By the time we were in the elevator going up to our floor, I was starting to get concerned. Nate still hadn’t spoken to me, other than answering my questions with short, vague responses, and his expression remained grim.
“You feeling okay?” I asked him.
“I’m fine.”
But he wasn’t.
The doors opened, and as we began to walk down the hall, I tried again. “So what kind of food do you feel like having? We could—”