Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82893 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82893 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
“How drunk are you?” Roman asks, looking at me, seemingly upside down from this position. It’s not too difficult to make out his handsome features. Even though the bonfires littering the beach are all far away, the moon is so bright it casts a glow on everything it touches.
“Not as drunk as you were the other night.” I sit up and hear him either scoff or laugh as I twist and turn the bottle of wine in the sand. When I know it won’t tip over, I wrap my arms around my bent knees.
I let out a long sigh when he sits in the sand next to me. Earlier today, he vanished after telling me the story of the Star Thrower, something I’m starting to see is a habit of his. Popping up, boggling my mind, then disappearing into thin air like he was nothing more than a figment of my imagination.
“Why are you drinking?” he asks quietly, and I glance over at him.
“Do I need a reason?”
“You have a whole bottle of wine.”
“I live in a hotel room. I don’t exactly have a place to keep my crystal glasses, fine china, or silver.” When he laughs heartily, the sound buzzes through my system, making me dizzier than the wine I’ve drank. “Why are you out here?”
“I needed some fresh air.”
“There is a lot of beach available for your use.” I wave my arm out before us.
“You don’t want my company?”
“I just don’t see the point.” I shrug, reaching for the bottle. Putting it to my lips, I tip it back and gulp down a mouthful.
“What does that mean?” he asks.
Placing the bottle back in the sand, I look over at him. “You’ve been all too willing to ask me questions but haven’t told me anything about yourself except that you’re from New York. Things with you are lopsided, and I don’t like how that feels.”
“You know my brother died.” His voice cuts through the silence after a long moment, and my heart skydives into my stomach as he locks his eyes on mine. “Right?” He knows somehow. He knows I saw his brother’s obituary. Was he awake?
“I know,” I confirm in a whisper, and he nods.
“He overdosed. He went from being the life of the party to being on life support.” The pain in his voice causes my rib cage to clench tight around my heart. “I fought my family for months to have him taken off it. He wasn’t there, and if he had been, he would have fucking hated being stuck in that bed, hooked up to those machines.” I squeeze my eyes closed. “The day after his funeral, I got in my car and started driving. I didn’t stop until I hit the opposite coast.” His voice drops to a quiet whisper. “Val would have hated it here.” His laugh is hollow.
“Why?”
“It’s too quiet, and with nothing to do, it would have given him too much time to think.”
“Is that how you feel?”
“I got drunk my first night here to fill the white noise. I’m still not used to it.” His eyes move to the ocean as he asks quietly, “How do you deal with the pain?”
“My mom was diagnosed with cancer when I was young, so the loss of her was always on the horizon. Even when the treatments were working and things were looking good, she was never in the clear. I knew I’d eventually lose her. I just didn’t know when, so I had a lot of time to get used to the idea.” I shake my head. “You’d think I’d be used to the heavy weight by now, that it and I would be old friends, but there are some things there is no getting used to.” I draw in a breath. “So I guess my answer is I don’t know if I’ve dealt with the pain or just tucked it away and distracted myself.”
“Yeah,” he says softly, and he’s probably one of the very few people who really understands what I mean, even though I’m sure I explained it horribly.
Picking up my bottle of wine, I take another drink and watch him stand. I expect him to say goodbye and disappear like he’s done all the other times, so I frown when he holds out his hand.
“What?”
“Come on. I need to walk.”
“You don’t need me to do that with you.”
“You’re right, but for some reason, I like your company.” He reaches down for me, and without thinking, I take his hand. I rarely drink, so even though the bottle I brought with me is still mostly full, I sway when he pulls me up to stand.
“You’re not drunk, huh?”
“It’s the sand.” I dust off my bottom while he laughs.
“I’ve got you.” He links his arm through mine and takes the bottle. Using him to stay steady, I let him lead me down to the shoreline, where the waves have flattened the sand so it’s firmer under my feet. Letting him go, I take off my sneakers and then walk toward the water. I look over at him when he comes to stand next to me, then laugh when a wave washes up higher than the last few and covers his shoe-clad feet. “Fucking hell.” He jumps back to get out of the cold water.