Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 125465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
“Do you think there should be something?”
Because, after all, I’m not sure if she knows anything. This could all be a shot in the dark, instinct compelling her to speak out. I can’t give too much away before I know for sure whether she has the slightest clue.
“Speaking freely?” I nod in encouragement, though that’s the last thing I want. “All summer, it’s like you’ve been here, but you’re not here. There have been times when I’ve looked at you, and you’re far away. I wanted to say something but didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or paranoid.”
I can’t tell her.
I need to tell somebody.
But she’s Q’s wife.
She already said she hasn’t mentioned this to him. I can trust her.
I thought I could trust Ren.
“Can I take a stab at it?” she murmurs, chewing her lip. “Does it have to do with Ren?”
I draw a breath, panic flashing in my head the way lightning flashes outside the window. “I-I mean, that’s—” I stammer, my tongue thick and awkward, my brain unable to string enough words together to tell her she’s wrong.
“I get it,” she whispers, staring at me with obvious concern. “Like I said, this is between you and me. But honestly, I sensed a change in you from the beginning. After he vanished. You seemed far away then, too. I got a sense there was something a little deeper than brother-sister affection. And if I’m off-base,” she’s quick to add, “tell me so. And then I’ll slink off in embarrassment, and we never have to mention this again.”
It’s her honesty, refreshing and clear, that makes it possible for me to chuckle. “I wish I could tell you you’re wrong. But I’ve already lied for so long, and I’m tired of it. I’m tired of pretending. And I’m sorry if it makes me a bad person.”
“What, because you care the way you do? Can we take a second to remember who you’re talking to? Tell me one person who wanted to see Q liking me?”
“I did,” I remind her.
She pauses, and a glossy sheen pulls over her eyes. “That’s true. Quinton told me what you told him. You were the only person who didn’t give him a hard time. You encouraged him to go after me because you saw it made him happy.”
“Do you think Quinton would say the same to me now?”
“Unfortunately, no, but that’s only because of his own relationship with Ren. He wants you to be happy, but right now, his own pain wouldn’t allow him to see that Ren might be the one who makes you happy.”
I nod, knowing exactly what she means.
“Loving someone you shouldn’t doesn’t make you bad. Just the opposite. It means you see the good in people.”
“But look what he did. I should hate him the way Q does.”
Her brows draw together, lips pursed, and her head shakes ever so slightly from side to side. “Don’t assume anything. I mean, would he ever admit it? Not at the threat of being drawn and quartered,” she mutters with a wry grin. “He’s still hurt by what happened. He’s angry, but at the same time, he misses his friend. I see it sometimes. A look he gets on his face, or the way he trails off when he starts telling a story. I know it’s because Ren was a part of that memory. Maybe that’s why I can see it in you, too. You are a lot alike, you and your brother.”
“Perish the thought,” I quip, and we share a smile.
“It might also be because I understand how it feels when you’re drawn to someone in your heart even though you know they’re the last person in the world you should feel that way about. I know that feeling very well. And it seems like you can’t get any control over your heart or your thoughts or anything. It’s confusing and frustrating and painful.”
“Yes.” God, the relief. I can breathe again. It’s like I’ve been wandering in the dark all this time, and Aspen brought light back to me. “I’ve loved Ren for so long, and no matter what anyone says, my heart still loves him.”
Like I’ve been surrounded by people speaking a language I can’t understand, and finally, someone speaks words I recognize. I’ve been disconnected for so long. Too long.
“You can’t choose who you love. And if you ever want to talk about it, I’m a phone call away. Day or night, any time. I’m serious,” she adds when I’m about to give her a polite smile. “I know what you’re going through—the situation might be different, but the feelings are the same. And I would’ve given anything to talk to somebody who cared. Please, don’t make me worry about you suffering alone, okay?”
When her chin trembles, I have no choice but to jump up and go to her. “Thank you,” I whisper before wrapping her in a hug. I don’t know who this is supposed to comfort more—me or the teary, hormonal girl I’m squeezing as tightly as I dare. “I wish we had this conversation sooner.”