Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 79183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
So what? Everyone goes through shit. Everyone. That doesn’t justify ruining everyone else just because you aren’t happy or don’t get what you deserve.
And now he has nothing.
I think back on my black trash bag full of crappy things over my childhood.
I think I cherished those more than she cherished anything her family ever gave her.
I turn against Quinn’s chest; I can’t stop shaking or thinking about the last few hours.
Quinn clings harder. “I didn’t want Ambrose to know about the baby. I was afraid he’d be pissed, but mostly, he’s always been this insane high school god with everything ahead of him. My dad wanted me to play sports, but I was more into math and playing video games; I figured, hey, if they need shit on us, why can’t it be me? Why can’t I be the father in his place? No need for a paternity test since we both slept with her. It wouldn’t be fair to him, but he thought—” He starts to choke up like he needs to get this out for him, me, and Ambrose. It helps soothe the ache in my soul. “He thought I chose her over him when I chose him every time. I chose my best friend.”
He’s trying to comfort me, to share his story so that when Ambrose wakes up—I don’t sob because of mine—ours.
A tear slides down my cheek, I wipe it away and look up at Quinn. “You did more than enough.”
“No.” His eyes fill with tears, but they don’t spill over; it’s like he’s holding them in. “I didn’t protect him enough. He’s been under pressure his entire life; while my dad already gave up on me, his never did… I was always so fucking jealous. I guess we all have our journeys. Our own stories. I just never saw his ending this way.”
I think back on mine and get closer to him. “Yeah, we do.”
“Maybe had I found you first… right?” Quinn jokes, his eyes are sad though, and it kills me because I know he’s being honest and that it hurts his soul the way it hurts mine because, in another life, maybe I would have loved him. In this one, I still have love, but I look over at Ambrose, and I ache.
I don’t ache for Quinn.
I ache for Ambrose.
And I’ll ache for him for an eternity. I need to walk out of that room before I don’t have the strength to leave. When I disappointed Ambrose the first time, it nearly destroyed me.
Now? There won’t be any more pieces left to salvage.
Quinn holds me tight, then rubs my back. “Sorry, too soon? I was just kidding, you know.”
No, he wasn’t.
I laugh despite the fact that my boyfriend is currently a few feet away from me. “Who knows, he may get amnesia and never want to see my ugly face again.”
“You’re not ugly.” Ambrose groans. A chill runs down my spine as if to say it’s time. “And I’m right here.”
I fall out of Quinn’s lap and stumble toward Ambrose. “You’re awake.” I try to keep myself from bursting into tears as I make it over to Ambrose. His head’s bandaged. No airbags deployed in the car for whatever reason—we are waiting to find out why—so he hit the front really hard and got scratches along his jaw with a lot of bruising down his arms and chest.
But that’s the least of his worries right now.
I swear I can see the scars on his body from the surgery, the ones he probably feels but doesn’t yet know about.
“Ambrose.” I choke out, holding my breath for a few seconds.
One. Goodbye.
Two. I’m sorry.
Three. Believe it wasn’t my fault.
Four. I love you.
“I’m awake, not talking in my sleep, and why does everyone look so morose?” Ambrose groans again and sits up.
He stares at Quinn, not me. “I love you too, bro.”
Quinn bursts into tears and walks over to Ambrose, then pulls him in for an embrace while I watch. These guys. Ride or die. I love them. I love it.
I’ve never had that.
And now I’ve lost it.
“I’m sorry,” Quinn says, holding Ambrose close. “I’m so fucking sorry, I had no idea, and when I finally figured it out, I realized what was happening. I—“
“—Not on you.” Ambrose pats him on the back. “I got in the damn car.”
“Because you’re a good person,” I whisper. “You always have been, always will be.”
“Oh yeah.” His smile’s teasing. “The guy who slept with his foster sister on, like what? The first day?”
I just shake my head. “Maybe she wanted it.”
“She asked for it.”
“Too far. Now you get slapped.”
He bursts out laughing. “I was kidding!”
“Not funny.” I stick out my tongue. “Plus, you’re a horny little thing, with your tiny little—“
“—Hey now.” He sits straighter. “You know very well that my dick is in good condition.”