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)
I look past her and meet my brother’s annoyed green-eyed stare. My smile falls. The disapproval in his eyes is overwhelming sometimes. I get it. He’s the golden boy and I’m the fuck-up. The end. Hudson is the Hale kid who’ll go off and do great things while I’m left here pondering the meaning of life. Sometimes I think God made a mistake. Accidentally stuck me on this earth when I was better suited for some dark hole of existence.
Amy beams up at me.
It’s too damn bright here.
Turning away from her supportive smile and my brother’s bothered glare, I reach forward with my thumb and attempt to wipe away the blush on Dad’s cheek. His skin is cold and gross feeling. As soon as I touch him, I kind of wish I didn’t. But now that I realize the red is coming off, I’m invested in seeing it through to the end.
“Cheer up, Ry-Bear.”
Those were the last words Dad spoke to me. I didn’t understand why they had to have an anniversary dinner without me. I was their kid. If they had just taken me with them, I’d be lying in a third casket finally knowing the meaning of life. I’d be dancing somewhere in the dark. Alone. Happy. At peace. Hudson would have to fret over the fact they’d want to pluck my thick, dark eyebrows because I’ve told him before bushy brows are the style now and he’d want to honor that. He’d tell them to take me out of the boring dress they’d no doubt put me in and let me wear my favorite red flannel shirt I stole from him before he went off to college.
Someone sobs loudly and I laugh at them.
I laugh until I realize it’s me sobbing.
I’m a mess.
“Cheer up, Ry-Bear.”
Amy tries to hug me, but I push her away from me. Dad looks like a girl right now and I need to fix it. His lips are tugged into a permanent frown.
“Cheer up, Daddy,” I whisper, my tears splashing on his face as I see to it he doesn’t get buried looking more like a woman than Mom.
“Rylie,” Hudson warns, his body heat behind me, letting me know he’s close. “Stop it.”
Ignoring him, I rub and rub and rub, the tears blurring Dad before me, until I’m being pulled away by strong arms. I kick and flail and scream, but my captor is too powerful. I’m dragged into a private, side room and the door closes behind us.
No longer able to fight, I collapse in Hudson’s grip. Thankfully, he’s strong enough for both of us. I’m unable to carry on with a brave face like he does. Aside from that first night, I barely see any emotion from him. He’s able to compartmentalize his feelings. It’s unfair.
I clutch onto his suit, no doubt smearing Dad’s makeup all over it, as I cry against him. My brother and I have always fought, but right now he’s the strength I need. He hugs me fiercely. His mouth whispers promises that he’ll always take care of me. That together, we won’t be alone.
God, how I want to believe him.
But as soon as this funeral is over, he’ll pack up and leave us. He’ll leave his dead-inside sister and his big-boobed girlfriend. I’ll be left to pick up all the pieces while he throws the ball around and makes America proud.
My heart that aches so badly starts to go numb. The numbness trickles through my veins and bleeds through each nerve ending. I’m as good as alone.
“Everything will be okay,” Hudson vows, mimicking Aunt Becky’s annoying mantra. His words send a flare of anger surging through me.
“No, Huds,” I bite out. “It won’t be okay. Our parents are fucking dead.”
He winces and looks over his shoulder as if he’s embarrassed by my words. The same reaction as always. Any time one of his friends or coaches or another parent might see his obnoxious little sister act out, he’d look over his shoulder. With a furious growl, I shove him away from me.
Despite being much taller than me and carrying at least a hundred pounds more than my small frame, he gets caught off guard. He stumbles and nearly falls on his ass. Anger blazes in his green eyes as he storms over to me. His fingers bite into my biceps as he clutches me.
“Calm the hell down, Rylie,” he snaps.
I try to wriggle from his hold and shove him again, but he yanks me to him. His strong arms lock me in a hug I can’t get out of. My big, mean brother holds me and continues to whisper assurances to me.
For a moment, I believe them.
Together, we believe his lies.
But nothing will ever be fucking okay again.
Ever.
Hudson
Three weeks later…
“You should let me rub the tension from your shoulders,” Jada says, her smile bright and flirtatious.