Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 129460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 518(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 518(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
“That could mean anything—”
“It means he doesn’t want to see me!” she shouts before she slumps into a dining room chair.
I try to think of something to say that will comfort her, but I am at a loss. I can’t look at Jess without recalling her father, and he didn’t lay a hand on me.
The same can’t be said for Jack. Our grandfather abused him. He sexually assaulted him and marked his skin with our family emblem so he could never forget what happened to him, and although I’m confident the hurt he is experiencing may lessen when he discovers how deeply embedded his life is with Octavia’s, I can’t be as confident that he will ever be ready to hear that.
It is easier to hide shame than it is to embrace it.
When Octavia pops her head up from her hands, I nudge mine to the hallway. “How about you call it a night. You haven’t slept since Friday, and that would have only been for a couple of hours at most.” When she stares at me in shock, I admit, “You groan every time you roll over. I stopped counting your flips when I reached a hundred.” I ignore advising the reason I am awake. She doesn’t need to know about my nightmares. She has enough on her plate.
When I pluck her from my chair, she pushes out with a sigh. “I don’t want to go to bed. I won’t sleep. I’m too worked up.”
“Even if you don’t sleep, you’ll be more comfortable in your bed where you can stretch out.” I wrap her up tight like my mother did every time she changed my bedding without once ridiculing me for my bed-wetting. Once she is tucked in nice and tight, I ask, “You good?” When she sluggishly nods, partway asleep already, I head for the door. “I’ll be just on the other side if you need me.”
I wait for her to nod for the second time before I close her door to the halfway mark, then stand on the other side, unsure what I should do or where I should go.
I can’t sleep. I’m too worked up for that, but if I stay here, I’ll no longer see it as my home.
They say home is where your heart is, but I left mine in a church restroom in Jersey.
Didn’t I?
CHAPTER 45
JESS
Considering the late hour, traffic should have been kind to me.
It wasn’t.
There was an accident that turned a two-mile trek into an almost two-hour ordeal. I’m only just pulling into the back lot of my building now, several hours after I told Caleb I’d be home. I would have advised him about the accident if my cell phone didn’t die shortly after I sent him a photograph of a road sign. I have no clue if he’s happy about my impromptu return or annoyed.
I’m not being nosy. I merely want to make sure my friends are okay.
I sigh while exiting my father’s pride and joy. Even without a word leaving my mouth, I could hear the deceit in my tone. The past twenty-four hours have been a clusterfuck of emotions, and I feel like I’m drowning in the murkiness, so I can picture how bad it is for Caleb, Jack, and Octavia. I’m merely a spectator, but they’re knee-deep in controversy, but none of the mud being slung their way is theirs to wear.
When I reach the landing of my apartment, my eyes stray to the floor above. It is peacefully serene considering how sullied it seemed only hours ago. Not a sound projects from the usually bustling hive, so instead of climbing another set of stairs, I slump my shoulders then trudge into my apartment.
After toeing my shoes off at the door, I dump the keys for my father’s ride onto the entryway table, then head for my room. I should shower. I feel rotten both inside and out, but my throbbing head doesn’t want to be drenched in water. It wants the thuds drowned out with vodka.
I wouldn’t hesitate to have a nip or two if tomorrow wasn’t a workday. I’ll already be on the backfoot tomorrow when my father learns I ‘borrowed’ his ride, so I can’t risk more controversy by being busted drinking on a weekday.
Once I’ve peeled out of the dress I want to pretend is a nightie, I switch it with a pair of cotton pajama pants and a singlet top. I’m about to crawl into bed and forget the world for a couple of hours, but the faint smell of smoke lingering through the crack in my bedroom window stops me.
Our building has a no-smoking policy, so most residents sneak out onto their balconies to chuff down some nicotine before calling it a night. I’ve never had the need. I only ever stole a handful of puffs from Heidi, who only smokes when she is drinking. Although I am reasonably sure that stopped when she fell pregnant with Lachlan.