Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 45045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
“Sorry,” I said. “Let’s try this again. You said something about this cup, and how hard it is for me to handle. I just realized you’re playing that game with me, aren’t you?”
“What game?” Eli asked, pretending that he didn’t know exactly what I was talking about.
“The one where we trick each other into saying things that can be used against us.”
“Yeah, I think I remember that one,” he said, offering me a lazy smile. “But I’m not playing it tonight. If something sounds bad to you, that’s because you have a dirty mind.”
“So, you’re telling me that you can’t see how me saying I can always handle hard—” I stopped talking, wondering if there was anything in the kitchen suitable to bash in his skull when I swung it around by its handle.
He burst out laughing. I flipped him off, trying not to smile. Or worse, start laughing with him, because…the thought seemed to hang there, right in front of me, waiting for me to own it. I swallowed. This was going to change everything.
Eli isn’t my enemy. Eli is one of my best friends. I’ve always been able to trust him with my secrets, even when keeping them gets him in trouble.
And he’s always been able to trust me.
“Tell me about the night you got arrested,” I said, letting the game go.
He gave me a wary look. “You already know everything you need to know.”
“Bullshit,” I insisted. “Tell me the real story.”
“No,” he said, and his voice softened. “Peaches, it would hurt you, and there’s nothing good that can come from it. It’s time to let it go.”
“Why?” I said, stepping over the river of Dr. Pepper and vodka. “You afraid it’ll be too hard for me to handle? I can’t believe I fell for that. Probably because it doesn’t even sound dirty anymore. I can’t decide if the culture has changed that much, or if we were just exceptionally sheltered children.”
I took another step toward him, and then another, closing the distance.
“You were sheltered,” he said, catching and holding my gaze. “Me, not so much. Gus took me in because my mom was into meth. I don’t remember the worst of it. Your mom always said that was my brain protecting my heart. Because some things shouldn’t be remembered.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, reaching my hand out to him. He took it, his big fingers wrapping around my smaller ones, strong and warm.
Eli snorted, breaking the moment. “You were sorry that you had to share your bedroom.”
“I was five. Every five-year-old on Earth has anger management issues they’re working through. By definition.”
“And have you finally worked through yours?” he asked, the question playful but very real at the same time.
“Not all of them,” I admitted, walking toward the big, comfy couch in the living room. I’d started sleeping down here once they’d taken Eli away. For some reason, stealing his bed hadn’t felt right. “I still need to hear about what happened that night. When you got arrested.”
“Why?” he asked. “Talking about it won’t change anything.”
I let his hand go, settling back into the center of the brown sectional. It didn’t match the rest of the house on about a thousand different levels, but it was comfy, and I loved sleeping on it.
Eli sat next to me, stretching out on the long section that extended into the center of the room. It was more of a bed than a couch.
“One last chance, Eli,” I said. He reached over, catching my hand. Something wild gleamed in his eyes as he tugged me toward him. I started to scoot in his direction when I realized that he was using sex as a diversion.
“No fucking way,” I said, pulling my hand back. I wanted to glare at him, but it took just about everything I had not to crawl into his lap. “I want to hear it from you. All of it.”
His gaze sharpened. “What time did you leave the bar tonight?”
I considered pretending that I didn’t know what he was talking about. That’s what I’d done when I borrowed his car my junior year. He hadn’t fallen for it then. No point in playing games. Not now.
“The last thing I heard was you telling Gus to clean up his own mess.”
Eli leaned back against the cushions, propping up his feet as he studied the ceiling.
“Then you heard the part that matters,” he said. “What else do you want to know?”
“Everything. But I understand that some things aren’t supposed to be talked about. I can respect that.”
He rolled his head to look at me, raising a brow.
“Okay, so I can sort of respect it a little bit…” I amended. “And I know Gus needs to tell the story for himself.”
“Very true,” he said.
“You know, I worshiped him when I was a little girl. I knew he wasn’t my real dad, but it felt like he was. Then you came along, and he didn’t have time for me anymore. Somehow, I convinced myself that there was only room for one child in this house. I had to get rid of you.”