Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
“I hated him in that moment. Every bad thing that ever happened to Ash was because of him, or at least that’s what I thought back then. So, I picked up a rock and threw it right through his window.”
“You what?!” Nat sputters out a laugh.
“I totally did.” Despite my mood, I feel my lips tugging into a grin at the memory. “And it felt good for a whole two seconds.”
“What happened then? And why did you say that’s what you thought back then?”
I exhale loudly, feeling particularly ashamed about this part.
“Instead of running, I just stared him down through his open window like a creep. I wanted him to know that I wasn’t afraid of him. But, he ended up telling me that I needed to fix his window or else he’d tell my parents what I’d done.”
“You didn’t.” Nat cackles. “Only you, Briar Vale, would bust someone’s window and then put it back together.”
“Shut up.” I roll my eyes. “I didn’t want them finding out. You know how my mom is about keeping up appearances, and my dad and Dash were constantly at each other’s throats then.” Nat nods, because she knows better than anyone. “I did the shittiest job in the history of ever. I had no idea what I was doing. I thought I’d show up and he’d at least give me some kind of direction, but nope.” The word pops from my lips. “He just sat in that recliner, waiting for me to figure it out.”
“Anyway, it took a while, and in that time, he told me stories that made me see things…differently. Things that I’m not even sure Ash knows. I still hated him for how he treated Ash, but for the first time, I realized that nothing was black and white. People are flawed, and sometimes, good intentions aren’t enough.”
“I realized fairly quickly that he wasn’t doing well. So, I checked on him a couple of times a month, brought him food, made sure he had clean laundry, and he’d tell me stories about Asher as a kid. It made me feel closer to Ash.”
Dash told me about John having liver cancer, and I wondered if that’s what had been wrong with him. If I would have said something, insisted he go to the doctor, maybe, would he still be dying right now?
“But how does that make what happened your fault?”
“I don’t know.”
And I don’t. I don’t even know what happened, but it’s the only thing I have to go on that makes even a little sense.
Suddenly, there’s a splash at the opposite end of the pool, and we both scream and sit up, not having heard anyone come out here. I squint my eyes, trying to make out the details in the dim patio lighting. All I can see is a mop of dark hair, and broad, powerful shoulders gliding through the water. Asher.
Sure enough, it’s Asher that comes up, stopping directly before us. His shirt is molded to his chest, showing off the muscles in his arms and stomach, and his hair hangs in his eyes. Water drips down the bridge of his nose, onto those full lips. He stares directly at me, not breaking eye contact when he reaches for the towel bunched up next to me and rubs it across his face and hair before tossing it back to the deck.
Ash reaches over, plucking the blunt from Nat’s hand, and takes a big hit.
“You can leave now,” he says, eyes still focused on me.
Nat looks to me, silently questioning whether I want her to go or not. I give her a nod, and she stands, pointing a finger in Ash’s direction. “Break her heart again, and I’ll break your dick.” She knows better than to wait for a response, so she walks off.
Ash takes another couple of hits before flicking it behind him to land in the pool.
“How did you get here?” His truck has a very loud, distinct sound that I’ve memorized over the past few weeks. I didn’t hear a thing…until he dove into my pool, anyway.
“Cab. Rode with your brother and Adrian. They weren’t ready to come home yet. I was.”
“Oh.” I don’t know what to make of that. I wonder what Whitley thought about that, but I don’t care enough to ask.
“Funny,” he says, in a way that lets me know what he’s about to say isn’t going to be funny at all, “you made such a big deal about Whitley doing blow— meanwhile, you’re out here getting high.”
“Please. Weed isn’t a drug. Not really.”
“The point is, you’re not only a liar, but now you can add hypocrite to the list. That’s a far cry from the perfect little Briar that I used to know.” Asher stalks toward me, and I put my foot out to keep him from getting too close. His words cause something to snap, and I’m suddenly so sick of his vague put-downs.