Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
My adrenaline spikes, body nothing but reaction as I lunge at him, wrapping my arms around him just as he’s about to punch the tree again.
Easton seems to be responding on instinct, bucking and kicking, trying to fight his way out of my hold.
“It’s me…Officer Thorn…Archer Thorn. I’m not going to hurt you.” I try to speak calmly, but I hear the panic in my voice. My heart is beating out of my chest, body tight as I try to keep hold of Easton.
“Get the fuck off me.” His elbow snaps back, landing in my gut.
“Fuck,” I grit out. That hurt. “If you calm down, I will. I’m not going to let you go if I’m not sure you won’t hurt yourself.”
We’re kicking up dirt beneath us, wrestling around, each trying to get the better of the other.
“I was hitting a goddamned tree. Who gives a shit about that?” He elbows me again, and I almost let go of him.
“Me,” I reply, and I don’t know what it is about that one simple, easy word, but Easton Swift goes still in my arms, stops fighting me, but I don’t let go right away. We’re both breathing heavily, me having worked my way on top of him. I can smell the alcohol on his breath, and his eyes are red from a mixture of being drunk and crying.
“You don’t give a fuck about me.”
“Yes,” I reply. “I do.”
“You don’t even know me.” This time when he pushes me away, I let him. We collapse onto the ground, both of us on our backs, looking up at the starry sky.
He’s not wrong. Still… “That doesn’t mean I can’t care.” That’s not how I’m built. I’ve seen him around town since he was a kid. I remember when his sister died. My mom was the EMT that day. She came home and spent the whole night crying, talking about the Swifts and all they’d lost. About the little boy who’d tried to cling to her but didn’t speak. Just fought to be close to his sister to the point where they’d had to take him along.
Easton.
“My cousin,” I finally say.
“What?” he snaps, sounding full of anger but also exhaustion.
“I know it’s not the same, and I’m not trying to pretend I understand your loss. Your story is your own, and you’re the only one who knows how to live it, but I lost someone I loved too. He was my cousin and best friend.”
Easton doesn’t reply for what feels like an eternity. I wish I knew what he was thinking, what to say, what to do. He should have someone who loves him here with him tonight, someone who knows him better than I do, but since that’s not the case, I won’t walk away.
It has to be a good five minutes of silence between us before Easton asks, “How did he die?”
Guilt wells up in me. If there was any way not to tell him, I wouldn’t, but Easton needs to feel less alone, to focus on someone else’s pain rather than his own, and I don’t have it in me to walk away when someone is hurting like that.
“He was getting into trouble, and I didn’t know. Had fallen in with the wrong crowd. He’d started to pull away from me, and I didn’t try hard enough to figure out what was going on with him. I was eighteen and graduating from high school. I was too busy with girls and my own life.”
My eyes sting, and I brush them with the back of my hand before sitting up. I don’t move away from him, still in the middle of the dirt, while Easton rolls onto his side, looking at me.
“He called me…the night he died. I didn’t answer. Not on purpose. I was just doing my own thing, ya know? I saw the voicemail but didn’t listen until the next morning.” I pause, rub the ache in my chest, fight to push the words out for this man who is both a stranger and not. “He was so scared…said he was in a bad situation and wanted me to come get him, to help him out of it.” I swipe at the stray tear. “I called him back, frantic, afraid, but he didn’t answer. We found out later that day that the guys he was hanging around with had a beef with some other guys. They were going to rough them up, break into their place. Trav was scared…and when he tried to back down, they took him as the enemy too. He didn’t make it out alive.”
Easton is quiet for so long, I’m not sure if he even heard me speak, if he cares about what I said. Hell, maybe he fell asleep or passed out or fuck, I don’t know…