Series: Like Us Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 241
Estimated words: 236417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1182(@200wpm)___ 946(@250wpm)___ 788(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1182(@200wpm)___ 946(@250wpm)___ 788(@300wpm)
I can’t be surprised, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. “I saw your Cobalts Never Die tattoo on your knee,” I whisper.
He nods slowly, gauging my reaction.
I lift my shoulder. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t look for one about my family—”
“Luna—”
“No, it’s okay,” I say quietly. “I would’ve bet on them too.”
“That’s just it,” Donnelly professes, eyeing the road, then me. “I was afraid of the unsure thing because I didn’t want to lose, but there’s never been a moment where I haven’t believed in you, Luna.”
My lungs reinflate. His belief in me feels good to hear, and it’s not so hard for me to understand why he’d distance himself from my family. Even though we’re both children of addicts, he can’t totally relate to my circumstances any more than I can relate to his. Not only is there an economic divide—I grew up in wealth, he grew up in poverty—but of what he’s told me, his mom and dad were high most of the time.
If given the chance, wouldn’t most choose to associate with the family that doesn’t remind them of their own dark past?
It would’ve been difficult for him to be a part of the Hales. Yet, here he is. Trying to be a part of my family.
I study him again, realizing how much he loved her to do such a thing. How much he loves me.
Donnelly tries to decipher my expression, but again, he trains his gaze to the road. “I told you a little bit about this already,” he says. “Maybe you’ll read it in your diary.”
“Maybe,” I mutter. Before I crept into the guest room, I cracked open the diary and read half a page. My pulse skyrocketed, then I shut it fast. I don’t bring it up now. “Were they worse when Moffy got with Farrow?”
“Your grandparents?”
“Yeah.” I pause. “I had this feeling they wanted Moffy to end up with a girl. Like, they thought that him being bi was either a phase or just this weird period in his life that would pass. And it’d all be fine once he married a girl.”
Donnelly looks me up-down for a split-second.
“What?” I ask him, eager for his innermost thoughts.
“I’d say your species is intuitive and all, but I think that’s just you, Hale.”
His quick compliments are some of the sweetest things anyone has ever said to me. “A great and terrible power,” I sing-song. “Never to be used recklessly.”
“Unless you’re with me,” he grins.
I grin back. “Unless I’m with you.” My smile slowly fades in thought. “So my grandparents were awful to my brother?”
“Not your grandfather so much,” Donnelly says, rotating the wheel. We’re off the highway and meeting red lights in Center City. “Let’s just say your mom kicked the Crow out of your brother’s wedding.”
I’m confused. “The who?”
It dawns on him: me not remembering. “Your Grandmother Calloway.”
I laugh. “The Crow…who came up with that?”
“Yours truly.” He lifts a couple fingers.
“I like it. It suits her.” I cross my legs on the seat, and my smile widens picturing my mom ousting the pearl-clutching old lady from the biggest social event of likely that year. “My mom is awesome.”
“Best mom around.”
He says it proudly, but I can’t help but think of his own mom. So many questions slam against me like a battering ram. Do you like your mom? Do you visit her in prison? When’s the last time you spoke to her? What’s her full name? I blink past the mental overload.
“You alright?” he asks, concern flaring his eyes.
I’m panting strangely. “Yeah.” I catch my breath and lift my backpack to my lap, conflicted on whether I should dig out my diary and read more about our past. I could even read it out loud to him…but maybe that’d be weird. He loves weird. He loves me.
Why is my heart still skipping several beats? My brows crinkle. Confusion begone! Mental powers are not working. I take out an energy drink and rezip the backpack, diary stored away. “I know you might’ve told me about your mom before, and maybe it’s in the diary”—which is why I have a strange urge to look—“but I guess a big part of me would rather just hear from you than read about it. But I don’t want you to feel like you’re on a hot seat.”
“I don’t feel like it,” he assures fast. “I mean, I don’t talk about my mom much to anyone, but I’d much rather be talking to you than to security about her. Which I had to do.” He takes the energy drink when I pass it to him. “I think I talked a little about her to you, but not a lot. Strangely, I think your dad knows more.”
“My dad?”
He swigs the pineapple-flavored liquid, then swallows. “He pries. Hard-core. Mostly in the name of your safety, which I get. He’s just looking out for you.”