Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
The freshman hall has long emptied out and I don’t see Rylie sitting in front of her locker waiting like usual. Unease flitters through me. She’s always waiting. If she’s off making out with some boy when she’s supposed to be getting ready to go, I’ll be pissed. I want to go home and change clothes before I take Amy out to dinner tonight. I don’t have time for this shit.
I’m passing Mr. Wright’s room when I hear him bitching someone out. I shake my head because that guy was such a dick when I had him in the ninth grade. I’m glad I don’t have to deal with his pompous ass anymore.
“Your attitude stinks,” he snaps. “What do you have to say for yourself, young lady?”
I stiffen because I don’t like the way he’s talking to a girl. Everything in me calls to keep hunting down Rylie, but I take pause to eavesdrop.
“It’s not attitude,” she says softly. “I’ve just been having a hard time lately. I’m sorry.”
My hackles rise.
Rylie.
Not just any girl, but my damn sister.
I turn on my heel and storm into the classroom, fury bubbling up inside me. Mr. Wright stands in front of her desk, towering over her. I used to fucking hate how he’d exert his height and power over people.
“Is there a problem here?” I demand, gesturing at where my sister sits with her head bowed.
She jerks her head my way and relief flashes in her eyes. It’s enough to have me wanting to yank Mr. Wright away from her. Instead, I fist my hands.
He tilts his head to the side and pierces me with one of his stern glares, not moving from where he stands too close to my sister. “None of your business, Hale. Go on and wait in the hallway.”
“Absolutely not,” I say lowly and take a step toward them. “I want to know what’s going on here and why she’s in trouble.”
He clenches his jaw and glowers at me. Several of Amy’s friends think he’s hot because he’s not even thirty yet and fit. But he’s a massive asshole. I don’t like the way he talks to Rylie.
“Rylie here,” he states as he points his finger in her face, “was sleeping in class and when I confronted her, asking her why, she shrugged at me. She’s disrespectful and rude, a trait that is clearly common in the Hale family.”
I stalk the rest of the way over to him, loving the fact I’m taller and bigger than this prick. He glares up at me, clearly furious that I’m in his space. I could kick his ass if it ever came to it and he knows it. Using my intimidating stature, I back him away from my sister several steps.
“If you have a problem with my sister, call my parents. I won’t have you bullying her.”
His eye widen and his mouth parts. “I wasn’t—”
“So she’s free to go?” I interrupt, the challenge hard in my stare.
“I’ll be calling your parents,” he growls. “Get her out of here.”
Rylie is already standing by the time I turn and regard her. She rushes over to me and clutches onto my arm, much like she does when something scares her. That fucker scared my sister. I want to turn around and deck him, but I know my mom would shit bricks if I screwed up my scholarship. Instead, I guide her out of the building and into the warm spring afternoon outside. We’re silent as we make it out to my truck. When we reach the vehicle, she stops. I turn my body to face her.
“Thank you,” she utters, her cheeks turning pink. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Nobody fucks with the Hales,” I tell her with a lopsided grin. “Especially pervy assholes like Mr. Wright.”
“He’s probably just mad because I don’t flirt and tell him how amazing he is,” she mutters and rolls her eyes. “I swear, he gets off on having a bunch of teenage girls giggling over how hot he is. For the record, I don’t think he’s hot.” Her lips tug on one side. A rare Rylie smile.
She wraps her arms around my middle and hugs me. My sister may get on my nerves sometimes, but I still have the overwhelming urge to protect her from idiots like Mr. Wright.
“Why were you sleeping in his class anyway?” I ask, my chin resting on the top of her head. “I overheard you talking. You’re depressed right now? Why?” I don’t understand her illness, but I want to.
Her body tenses. “My mind is just a mess lately.”
“Care to share?”
“Not this. Not ever. Not to anyone.”
The memory fades but the guilt remains. She’s always been suffering and I’ve never been man enough to put the time in to help her. Always someone else’s problem. Certainly not mine. Looking back, I wish I had listened to her and tried to help more. God, I feel so fucking terrible.