Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 108141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
“Whatever you need today, just tell me and I’ll make it happen.”
“Thank you, Ethan.” She pecks my lips. “I think I’m ready to go.”
She gives my mom a kiss on her cheek. “Thank you for the dress.”
After grabbing her sweater, we head out. Because the funeral is a public affair, and I’m worried Logan or Felix might be dumb and try something, I have not only Rosco, but also Kenny, my doorman and muscle at the club, with us. If Nevaeh notices, she doesn’t comment—probably too lost in her own grief.
We arrive at the church and she takes a deep breath. “I should warn you… My mom…”
“Hey.” I turn her face to look at me. “Today is about burying your brother. Just focus on that. You don’t need to worry about me. Let me worry about you. Okay? I’m a big boy and can handle whatever is thrown my way.”
She doesn’t look convinced, but she nods. I walk around the car and open the door for her. The wind picks up and she shivers, sliding the sweater she brought over her shoulders.
The parking lot is filled, including dozens of cop cars. Hopefully that will work in our favor and Logan and Felix will think twice before trying anything here.
When we get to the steps that lead to the front doors, Nevaeh halts in place. “This is where Logan took me.”
I glance around, confused. “From the church?”
“Yes.” She nods. “I stepped out and he threw a sack over my head and then threw me into the trunk.”
“Fuck,” I murmur under my breath, pulling her into my side. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“Yeah, it is,” I tell her honestly. “I told him to find you and bring you to me.”
When her eyes widen in shock and hurt, I add, “I had no intention of hurting you. I didn’t know he was working his own agenda.”
“I know.”
“I promise you no one is ever going to hurt you again,” I vow, as I pull her body against mine. “I’m—”
“Nevaeh,” a high-pitched voice says, cutting me off.
Nevaeh stiffens and turns around. “Mom.”
I raise my eyes to the top of the steps to find a woman, who looks like an older version of Nevaeh, standing there. For some reason, she looks eerily familiar, but there’s no way I would know her…
I assess her for a moment and notice that while they have similar features, they’re clearly different. They have the same colored eyes, but her mom’s are harder, colder, filled with judgment. Nevaeh only ever looks at people with kindness and compassion. They share the same color hair, but her mom’s is tamed straight, while Nevaeh’s is wild. Her mom’s dress covers almost her entire body, while Nevaeh’s shows off her gorgeous curves.
I can’t shake the feeling I’ve seen this woman before, somehow, which is crazy. There’s no way we run in the same circles. I push the thought aside. I’m being ridiculous. She just reminds me of Nevaeh.
“What are you wearing?” her mom accuses, stepping closer. “And who is this?”
Her mom’s only spoken a few words and I already know why Nevaeh is the way she is. Why she is dying to break free and find herself—find what’s real.
Nevaeh shrinks into me, but when I squeeze her hand, reminding her I’m here and have her back, she takes a deep breath, almost as if gathering her strength.
“I’m wearing a dress, and this is Ethan, my…”
“I’m her boyfriend,” I say, finishing her sentence for her.
Her mom’s eyes bug out as she assesses me with renewed purpose. My lips tip into a smirk as I imagine what she’s thinking. I’m dressed in an expensive suit, but I went without a tie, leaving the top two buttons undone. She can see the tattoos peeking out.
“This is not the time or place,” her mother says, her back straightening and her tone turning icy.
“You’re right,” Nevaeh says, squeezing my hand. “Today is Stephen’s funeral. I’ll formally introduce you to him another day.”
She walks up the steps, and I follow, past her mother and into the church. When we enter, the place is filled with people. It’s warm from all the bodies, and I consider shrugging out of my jacket before I sweat to death.
Nevaeh must have the same idea, because she releases my hand and removes her sweater, draping it over her arm.
“Nevaeh,” a woman says, then sprints toward her. When she reaches us, she pulls Nevaeh into a hug. “Thank God you’re okay. I’ve been so worried about you.”
“You spoke to me yesterday,” Nevaeh says as she steps back.
“I know, but it’s not the same. You’ve never just up and left.”
“I’m sorry,” Nevaeh says softly. I can tell she wants to give her more, but she can’t. It would mean explaining the truth about her brother.
“And who’s this?” the woman asks, raking her gaze down me.