Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
A handful of tables are in use, and I glance toward them as we pass with our trays. People in scrubs, grabbing a quick breakfast and coffee. A couple off in the corner, leaning on each other for support. There are so many stories around here—ours is only one of them. Today we are one of the happy stories, sitting together, grinning at each other every once in a while. I couldn’t have known when I fell asleep last night that the morning would turn out like this.
Just like I couldn’t have imagined watching my house explode one day. An explosion that killed my father and Leni’s mom… and someone else, a third body that was never identified, a body close enough to the source of the explosion that it was pretty much completely destroyed. Lazy investigators assumed it was Nix’s, and the fact that my brother decided to disappear only strengthened their theory, at least in their own minds.
I don’t want to think about that now, not when there’s hope and the promise of a future for a woman whose life was almost taken by the man who was supposed to love her. He destroyed her, he almost destroyed Leni, and he got what was coming to him. Now, with Mom being awake, there’s the possibility we’ll all be able to move forward.
All I need is for my brother to come back and prove I was right all along. That’s the only thing that will begin to erase the damage that bastard did.
2
LENI
A sense of heavy sadness settles over me as we roll through the tall, wrought-iron gates leading to the place where Mom and Nix are waiting. It’s so peaceful here—the kind of quiet that I suppose could be considered eerie, but at times like this, it feels comforting. I like to think of them being at peace here, especially Mom, whose life was so difficult in her later years, after I was injured, and she worked so hard to make sure I had what I needed.
It’s so damn unfair that we’re never given any warning when our last years will come. James had seemed like a dream come true; the answer to all of her problems. At least she had a little bit of time when she didn’t have to constantly worry about how we were going to make ends meet.
Of course, there’s no such thing as miracles, and her short-lived freedom came at a heavy price. I almost wish she had never found all that incriminating evidence. I wish, if she had to die, she could’ve died believing her life was a happy one.
That’s where my sadness comes from as we roll to a stop at the end of a row of graves. They’re newer on this side of the cemetery—there’s one up ahead that looks like it was only just filled recently. By now, the earth over Mom’s grave has flattened out until it looks pretty much the same as all the others.
“Are you okay?” Colt’s question is maybe a little sharp, a little testy. Being here freaks him out, but he says he understands why I need to do this. Maybe one day I won’t feel the need as strongly as I do now, but regular visits help me feel connected.
“Oh, yeah. I’m fine.”
“Then why are you sitting here?” he asks while his fingers tap the wheel. “You don’t have to get out if you don’t want to.”
I can only shake my head at the way he misunderstands me. “I wish you could get out of the car with me and visit. That’s all.”
“You’re not really visiting anyone.” I wince at his reply, which makes his expression soften along with the tone of his voice. “You know what I mean. It’s just bodies in the ground.”
I know what he means, but he isn’t telling the whole story. Does he really think he can fool me? Like we don’t already know each other better than that? “Can I ask you something?” I murmur while my pulse picks up speed.
“Sure.”
It’s not easy to put into words in a way that won’t insult him. I almost wish I hadn’t said anything in the first place. All I can do is stare down at the two bouquets in my lap—one for Mom and one for Nix. Mom’s favorite flower was always roses, and since I don’t know if Nix had a favorite flower, I got roses for him too. I don’t think he would care very much either way. Stroking the silky petals, I ask, “Why didn’t you tell your mom Nix is dead?”
I hear the sharp intake of breath, but I’m too unnerved to look his way. He’ll be angry. Most things about Nix make him angry. He doesn’t like talking about his brother, especially since we so clearly disagree over the facts. “Because he’s not. So why would I tell her he is?”