Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 149510 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 748(@200wpm)___ 598(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149510 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 748(@200wpm)___ 598(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
“I probably wasn’t supposed to say any of that, huh?”
I grin at her. “Probably not.”
“What? Why?” Jack questions, desperate for more information.
“Uh-oh, Scottie,” I tease. “I feel like you’ve found yourself in a little predicament.” I make a show of pulling out my phone. “I should probably text Lexi and let her know that—” I start to say, but my words are cut off when Scottie literally dive-bombs into my lap and knocks my phone out of my hands.
“Don’t you dare!” she shouts through a laugh. I wrap my arms around her body and hold her tight to my chest. With my free hand, I pretend to grab for my phone.
“Hold on, Scottie. I gotta send a quick text.”
“Finn! Don’t!” she squeals breathlessly, wrestling me to keep me from grabbing it. I take full advantage of our situation and hug her tightly to my chest, relishing the feel of her body against mine.
“What was that, Scottie? You want me to tell Lexi what you just told my brothers?”
She’s laughing so hard she snorts, and I feel like the main character in a Marvel movie. To lift her from the depths of despair to this—coming here this morning has been a successful mission.
I know my historical record isn’t great, but from now on, this is the only way I ever want to make Scottie Bardeaux feel.
When Scottie’s laughter finally subsides, I unlock my arms, and she climbs off me and takes a seat next to Willow again. I watch her avidly, my fingers tingling with the need to touch her again.
The next two hours are filled with more funny chatter and my siblings making Scottie laugh with ridiculous stories about one another and me, and a boulder forms in my stomach when Willow checks the time and says we need to leave.
“You should come, Scottie,” Jack says as he grabs a few cookies for the road. “Mom would love to have you for dinner.”
“Oh no, I couldn’t impose like that. I—”
“Trust me, Scottie, she made enough food to feed a hundred people. It’s our first Christmas without…” Willow pauses, and everyone in the room, including Scottie, knows how to fill in the blank. Our shitstick of a situation definitely isn’t secret anymore. “She’s just going all out,” my sister says, her voice soft. “I know she’d love to have you. Finn never brings anyone home. Like, ever.”
“That’s because he has no friends,” Trav chimes in helpfully, momentarily pausing his lick of his lollipop to insult me.
“So, this would be a big deal for my mom. I know she’d love to meet you,” Willow charges on, unfazed.
“Low,” I chastise with a shake of my head. The last thing I’m going to do is push Scottie to do something she doesn’t feel comfortable doing.
“What?” my sister asks, completely oblivious that her overenthusiastic offer is what I’d consider pushing.
“Scottie, you’re more than welcome to come,” I say and reach out to gently brush a piece of hair out of her eyes. “But it’s also cool if you want to stay here.”
“I’d really love to…” She nods, and her top teeth dig into her bottom lip. “But I don’t think I can.”
In an instant, Scottie’s eyes go from bright emerald to a muddy green. Sadness has seeped back into her senses, and I’d do anything to make it go away.
But I know better than anyone that this is part of the process. Feeling your feelings is way healthier than smothering them down so deep you drive yourself to psychosis.
Scottie needs space and time and distance to process. And as hard as it is to do, I know I have to give it to her.
Scottie says goodbye to Jack and Trav and Willow, all three pulling her into a giant group hug before they head out the door.
I hang back for a moment while they go romping down the hall, and Scottie surprises me by placing a sweet kiss to the apple of my cheek. “Merry Christmas, Finn.”
“Merry Christmas, Scottie.”
I’ve never been much of a believer, but I have to admit, this Christmas, there’s magic in the air.
Tuesday January 7th
Scottie
I was up before my alarm went off at seven this morning, already pacing my dorm room in anticipation of the morning ahead. It’s the first day of second semester, winter break is officially over, and that realization only fills me with dread.
Rumors about my alcoholic mom and me have spread through campus like wildfire. Everyone and their roommate is well aware of what happened at the Delta Omega house that night, and no matter how hard the Dickson Campus Police have tried to remove all the footage of the video that Nadine posted on the internet, they haven’t been successful.
Which isn’t surprising. The internet is the seventh circle of hell, and rounding up something from every part of the fire-laden ring might as well be impossible.