Total pages in book: 52
Estimated words: 50770 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50770 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
I turn around and see Sophie.
Wait.
I look closer. “Sophie?”
“Do you mean that?” she asks, taking a step forward, she looks really pale, then again her twin’s in a coma. “What you just said? Do you mean it?”
I can’t speak.
Why does she sound so much like Chloe? I’m hallucinating and it’s not fair, the universe is a cruel, horrible place.
Tears slide down my cheeks.
And then she’s in my arms. “Did you?”
I want to shove her away but I need the comfort and I know she does too, slowly I lower my chin to her head and sniff.
What? Now I’m even smelling her perfume.
She starts sobbing against my chest. “I’m sorry Sophie.”
She tenses in my arms and pulls back. “Sophie?”
My eyes search hers, then widen. “Chloe?”
She nods her head. “Sophie’s the one that got in the accident.”
I collapse against her sobbing.
She holds me tight in her arms. “Did you think? Wait, you thought I was the one in the coma?”
“Fuck that hurt.” I cling to her so hard that it’s borderline embarrassing. “I thought I lost you. I thought I’d never—“
“—Shhh, Quinn, I’m so sorry I thought Zane explained everything. I left my phone back at the house after he took me to the hospital. I’m so sorry!”
“Shit.” I pull back and press a kiss to her mouth and then her forehead, her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry too.” Her smile’s sad.
“We should talk.” I finally get out.
She nods. “But not here.”
A knock sounds at the door, the nurse pokes her head in. “Visiting hours are over.”
Chloe nods and grabs my hand. “I have a hotel across the street, you can stay with me.”
I walk out of that hospital room both relieved and sad, because there’s still someone in a coma and no matter how badly she treated me—that’s still tragic and it’s still Chloe’s twin.
I squeeze her hand and whisper words I’m not sure I believe, “It’s going to be okay.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chloe
I can’t believe Quinn actually thought I was the one that was dead, I mean that could easily be my future, should I even get involved with him being as sick as I am? I quickly shove the thoughts away because after that speech, how dare I even think that.
His emotions, his truth bled all over that room, it was beautifully tragic. We walk in silence across the street and into Hotel 47, a small boutique hotel, they only had one room left, and it was a suite. Zane paid for it and told me to stop talking.
He wasn’t even my family, but Quinn’s.
I barely knew him, but my parents still weren’t here yet, their flight got delayed with some plane mechanical issue thing at Portland airport so they couldn’t make their connection.
I was completely and utterly alone.
But now, I had Quinn.
I think Zane knew I was barely holding it together. We walked to the elevator and went up to the room. It was spacious and modern, with two bathrooms, a large king room, and a second room with a queen bed. Both rooms were themed, one was all modern art and bright colors, down to the purple down comforter, the other smaller room was more elegant with golds, whites, and blacks, and the main living room and kitchen area were like a joint mash up of both, but it worked.
Quinn walked straight into the king bedroom I’d been sleeping in and laid facedown on the bed with a grunt.
I came over and sat next to him.
His voice was muffled against the comforter. “Start at the beginning, what happened with Sophie, the truth, then tell me what happened when I left and how we went from Seaside to being airlifted to a hospital.”
“She’s um…” I get up and walk over to the mini fridge in the king room, grab a water, then grab him a few mini bottles of tequila and hand them to him.
He looks up. “Why is everyone trying to get me drunk with tequila these days?”
“Huh?” I open my water.
He shakes his head. “Long story of rockstars with good intentions and me puking my guts out only to wake up to a little boy and girl putting stickers on my face.”
“What?”
“Zane’s kids, again long story, I stayed at his place, and he got me drunk or I got me drunk and his kids have loads of energy.”
“Gotcha.” I nod. “And did the drunkenness help?”
“Ask the toilet, I dropped all my secrets there.” He groaned and flipped onto his back, opened up one shot, downed it, stared up and the ceiling. “So?”
“When I found out what she did, which yes was that next morning, I was going to tell you. I was embarrassed, and I didn’t want to scare you away, and on top of that, after you left, she threatened to tell you about my illness if I told you it was her, not me. Ever since I was diagnosed, she’s been on this rampage, slowly getting more and more mean. She’s basically stolen all my friends, the only boyfriends I’ve had left when it was too “hard” to deal with my being sick all the time. The amount of times I was told to just get better is outrageous.”