Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 94313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
I followed him out of the truck and stood by my door as Uncle Will turned his SUV around and parked on the other side of the tiny clearing.
“Whistle if you see anything,” my dad said to me quietly as we all met at the bikes.
Rumi tossed me his keys and I stuffed them in my pocket.
I’d just turned toward the road, my eyes sweeping over the blackberry bushes and trees when the hair stood up on the back of my neck. I didn’t even question the feeling, just dropped to one knee as all hell broke loose behind me.
“Drop it,” my uncle Will ordered.
“What the fuck?” my dad hissed.
“Whoa.”
“Who the hell are you?”
“Who the heck are you?” a familiar woman’s voice shot back.
I jerked in surprise as I turned, the shotgun in my hand forgotten.
She was standing there, her hair in a scraggly ponytail, wearing a dress that looked like it came from Little House on the Prairie and holding a pistol older than my gramps in both hands.
“Esther?” I croaked, staring. Memory after memory flashed vividly through my mind. Fuck.
Her wide eyes met mine and her hands—not altogether steady to begin with—began to shake alarmingly, considering the fact that the gun she was holding now pointed at my chest.
“Otto? What are you doing here?” she asked in confusion.
“Honey, you wanna drop that?” my dad interrupted, taking a step toward her.
“Whoa,” Micky barked as her gun swung toward our dad.
“A little help here?” Rumi bellowed at me.
“Esther,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm even though I was freaking the fuck out. “Could you stop pointin’ that at my dad, sugar?”
“Your dad?” she said faintly. She shook her head as if to clear it and lowered her arms.
I strode toward the foot of the stairs but felt like I’d had the wind knocked out of me when she moved, letting go of the pistol with one hand to unconsciously slide her hand down the front of her dress, outlining the suddenly visible swell of her belly.
“Oh, Christ,” Rumi muttered under his breath. “Shit always goes sideways. I fuckin’ told you.”
Chapter 1
Esther
“No way,” I blurted, staring out the front windshield of my cousin’s car. “My parents will kill me. Your parents will ground you, mine will actually commit murder.”
“They will not,” my cousin Becka snorted. “They’ll never find out.”
“See, that’s the difference,” I argued, pointing at her. “My parents always find out. You can just do what you want willy-nilly—”
“Willy-nilly?” she murmured incredulously. I ignored her.
“—and your parents never find out. But mine have a radar or something. It’s like they can smell it on me when I do something wrong.”
“You’re nineteen years old! There’s nothing wrong with stopping by a little party. It’s not like anyone’s going to force you to drink.”
“They have alcohol?” I hissed, looking back out the windshield where small groups of people were illuminated around a large bonfire.
“Oh, my god,” Becka muttered, slamming her head dramatically against the headrest. “Just twenty minutes. Okay? I said we’d stop by.”
“Why would you say that? I told you I’d go for ice cream.” My voice was flat. “Do they have ice cream here? Because I highly doubt it.”
Becka’s lips twitched as she fought a smile. “They might.”
I glared while she looked at me imploringly. It was the same old story. Becka had been getting me into trouble since we could walk. Even though I was the older of us by two months, she had always been the more adventurous. My aunt said Becka had a little bit of the devil in her, and no matter how she and my uncle had punished their youngest child over the years the devil had stuck around.
“Fine,” I ground out through my teeth. “Fifteen minutes.”
“Yes! You’re the best, you know that?”
“I hope it’s worth it,” I grumbled as she grabbed her purse and chatted excitedly.
“It’s going to be fun,” she assured me. “Matt said that everyone was going to be here—”
“We’re meeting boys,” I said under my breath as I climbed out of the car. “Of course we are. Drinking and boys. Might as well make the punishment worth it.”
We met at the front of the car and I let Becka wrap her arm through mine and tow me toward the bonfire. There were cars parked all over, but I didn’t recognize any of them. They were just big indistinguishable shapes that created a barrier between the clearing where everyone had congregated and the dark woods beyond.
“Do we know any of these people?” I asked, pulling Becka tighter against me as a couple of boys drunkenly grappled, stumbling toward us.
“We know a bunch of them,” she reassured me. “Most of the senior class is supposed to be here.”
“Becks,” a familiar and frankly unwelcome voice called from a place in the shadows.
“Matty!” My cousin tugged her arm away and skipped toward her on- again, off- again boyfriend, leaving me standing in a sea of unfamiliar faces.