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)
“What is it, baby?”
She takes a shaky breath, her lips pursing as one tear breaks free and falls to the pillow. “I…I took the paper you left on Professor Winslow’s desk on Tuesday.”
I blink what feels like a hundred times, trying to make sense of the words. It’s not only not what I’m expecting, it’s…unfathomable. I feel like I can’t breathe. Carefully, I sit up beside her. “What did you just say?”
“I’m sorry, Finn.”
I swing my legs over to the floor and scrub my hands into my eyes. “You…you took the paper?”
She scrambles to sitting too, pulling the loose sheet up and over her bare chest. Her face is a shattered mess of its normal beauty. I stare at her, unable to say or do anything else until she nods.
“You took it? Are you fucking kidding me?”
“I’m sorry.” She reaches out to grab my hand, but I yank it away. “You were just so upset, and I wanted to know what was going on with you, and I care about you so—”
“Did you read it?”
“What?”
“You heard me, Scottie,” I grit out, ice water in my veins making my whole body feel like it’s under attack. “Did. You. Read. It?”
She swallows hard, and I know the answer.
Frustrated, I jump off the bed, scrubbing my hands down my face, and turn around to smash my fist into a lone armchair that’s covered with her clothes.
When I spin back toward her, she scrambles back on the bed until her back hits the wall. She’s scared. Of me. It’s my worst fucking nightmare. With everything my mom, my siblings, and I have lived through with my dad, I’ve never, ever wanted someone to think I would hurt them unless they were actively hurting me.
Which, in a way, I guess she is.
“Where is it?” I demand, shaking with the effort it takes to make my voice calm.
“In my desk drawer,” she whispers and slowly crawls off the bed. I watch, unmoving, as she drags the sheet over to her desk and pulls open a drawer, grabbing the sheet of paper and holding it out to me. When I reach for it, she yanks it back. Red-hot anger makes my eyes burn.
“Where did you get this, Finn?” she asks as she clutches it against her naked chest. “It sounds like it was written by Professor Winslow’s father.”
“That’s none of your fucking business.”
“Finn, I swear you can tell me, and I won’t judge you. I would never judge you. I promise,” she pleads frantically, tears falling unchecked from her eyes now.
“I can’t fucking believe this,” I say, my hands in my hair. “You took my fucking property, hid it from me, and then what? Fucked me to distract me?”
“No!” she cries immediately, lunging toward me to try to take my hand. I pull myself away. She gathers herself in the sheet again, her voice as quiet as I’ve ever heard it. “It’s not like that. The timing is terrible, I know, and the guilt was eating me alive, but I slept with you because…because I love you.”
“Scottie, give me the fucking paper.”
“No.” She shakes her head, clutching my father’s stupid words to her chest tighter. “Not until you tell me where you got it.”
My jaw ticks, and my mind swirls. Why is she doing this?
“You know what, Scottie?” I say, my voice louder than I’d like it to be but completely out of my control. “I don’t know shit about love, but this…isn’t it.”
Scottie
My sobs are quiet but body-rending as Finn shoves his legs into his jeans and scrambles to grab his shirt from my bed.
I’ve pushed him too far, and now, everything is ruined.
“Finn, wait, please. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
I grab his elbow to stop him, but he spins around quickly, making me pull back into myself. His eyes are hard and cold. All his trust in me is gone.
“I’m so sorry, Finn. You were just so upset that day, and I wanted to know… I was trying to know why.”
“You want to know where I got it, princess?” he snaps, a sardonic, malicious smile making him look all wrong. “My fucking dad wrote it. How’s that for some fucked-up shit, Scottie? He’s not just a deadbeat alcoholic who likes to beat on his wife and kids, but he’s a deadbeat alcoholic who fathered a whole other family and left them behind. Professor Winslow is my fucking brother, and he doesn’t have a goddamn clue because he got to experience a life without a father who likes to talk to his wife and kids with his fucking fists.”
His words cut straight through me, and I have to move my hand to my mouth to stifle my sob.
“I didn’t mean… My intentions were good,” I insist.
Finn makes it clear with an angry raise of his hand that he doesn’t give a damn about my intentions, good or not. I guess there’s a reason they say they pave the path to hell.