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 have nineteen years’ worth of being told I am useless and pathetic and weak by my father. Nineteen years of trying to protect myself and my mother and my siblings from a man who is so sick and twisted, he smiles when he makes his wife and kids feel pain. Nineteen years of being broken down as a man.
That takes time to get over.
“You’re my brother, Finn,” Ty says softly. “And everything you’ve had to live with until now stops right here.”
An unexpected wave of relief washes over me, and I nod. Ty’s face swells with pride.
“Okay, you said Reece is in California, but Jack, Travis, and Willow are still in the house, right?”
I nod, panic at what they’re about to face gripping my chest.
“Okay, first things first, we need to get them out,” Ty continues. “Your mom, too.”
“It’s not that easy. I’ve tried.” I run a hand through my hair. “But he always ends up scaring or manipulating my mom into not pressing charges against him.”
Ty shakes his head. “Don’t worry about that. We’ll find another way to pin down Jeff, but for now, let’s get our brothers and sister out of that house.”
It’s a powerful statement—one I never dreamed would actually sound good. I can’t believe how comforting it is not to be on my own.
He grabs his phone from his pocket and dials, putting it to his ear. “Rem,” he says into the receiver. “Emergency family meeting. Meet me at Mom’s, and call everyone else… Yeah, I’m good…but we all need to talk and pronto.”
He hangs up without any obvious argument from Remington and meets my eyes. “Get on the phone with Jack, Travis, and Willow and tell them to get ready. We’re getting them out of that house today.”
“But he’ll be back there any minute.” I shake my head. “And they don’t even know. I haven’t told anyone about this—”
Ty grabs the tops of my biceps and forces me to focus. “You don’t need to worry about anything but telling them to get ready and make sure they pack stuff for your mom. I will handle everything else. You have my word.” He nods. “Now, Finn. Get on the phone with them now.”
My hands shake as I dial Jack’s number. Willow is the most likely to answer, but there’s no way I’m dropping the responsibility of this on her shoulders.
Jack finally answers on the fourth ring. “’Lo?” It’s still early for him, and his voice is filled with sleep.
But I don’t have time to coddle him into waking up. I don’t mince words. “Jack, it’s Finn. I know this sounds crazy, but I need you to get as much of your shit together as you can in the next ten minutes. Get Trav and Willow, get Mom’s stuff, too. Be ready to leave the house as soon as you possibly can. Leave and go to the park if no one is there in the next ten minutes to get you, and then call me.”
“Finney, dude, are you high?”
“No!” I snap. “This isn’t a joke, Jack. Do what I said, and do it now.”
Jack’s voice shakes, but he still manages a pretty kick-ass, “I’m on it.” I don’t blame him for being scared. I’m scared too.
Ty’s smile is both loving and reassuring as I get off the phone, and he jerks his head in the direction we came. We both run back up the ramp toward his car.
Things are in motion, and there’s no stopping now.
Scottie
When Julia knocked on my dorm room door two hours ago, I tried to ignore her, but she didn’t stop knocking for fifteen minutes straight.
Other than ordering a pair of noise-canceling headphones on one-hour delivery, I didn’t have any other choice than to let her in when I finally answered the door to half the floor out of their rooms, watching her.
She peels her banana on the futon beside me now, while Love is Blind plays on my television.
She hasn’t asked me about my mom or anything, really. Instead, sitting in silence with me while the minutes tick the day away.
She’s a good friend—probably the best friend I’ve ever had—but I’m in no mood to entertain. I’m hoping if I ignore her long enough, she’ll finally decide to leave.
Julia’s phone pings from her purse, and she stands up to grab it off my bed. She sits back down beside me and types out a response to whoever it is, but I don’t bother asking about it. There’s too high a probability that it’s someone asking about “Scottie’s alcoholic mom.”
“You don’t have to stay here,” I tell her again when she drops her phone facedown in her lap. “I know that you’re being a good friend and I appreciate it, but I’ll be okay.”
“You know,” she says, her voice almost painfully soft, “I know you will be. You’re a brilliant, capable, strong person whom I’m proud to call my friend. But it’s also okay not to be okay right now.”