Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 158848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
“You’re tough. You’re a fighter just like me. When life tries to knock a Holt down, we get right back up and keep swinging.”
I wince at his choice of words. I came out swinging all right—a baseball bat right into the car Griff gave me and spent so much time and money restoring.
Ugh. Why do I feel so bad about the car? It’s the least of what I should’ve done after being humiliated like that. But I can’t tell Remy what I did. He’ll be disappointed in me. Or send me to a psych ward for an extended vacation.
“Where were you going, anyway?” he asks.
“I can’t afford to go anywhere.” I let out a sad laugh and pull away. “That’s why I’m sitting here on a bench instead of on a plane right now.”
Remy frowns at the reminder that he could’ve arrived too late.
“I don’t want to go home,” I admit. “Everything will remind me of him.”
The enormity of everything I’ve lost rolls over me. No more hanging out at Zips racing cars on the weekend. That’s the first place Griff and I said “I love you” to each other. So many places hold memories of him. Even my own damn house.
“I’ll take a few days off. We can’t go anywhere too exotic,” Remy says. “Jersey Shore for a few days?”
“Ugh, I don’t want to run into Griff’s mom.”
“It’s a big shore, Molly.” He sighs. “We could go up to Maine,” he says with more enthusiasm. “You loved the beaches there when you were little.”
That brings on a wave of fond, Griff-free memories. Holding my mother’s hand as we waded into the water. Jumping waves with Remy. Happier times.
Money’s tight and taking multiple days away from the bar isn’t easy for my brother. I appreciate his offer to indulge my little tantrum more than I can express. “It’s okay.” I squeeze his fingers. “I have to face it sometime, right?”
“We can go to Lake George,” he suggests. He lifts his eyebrows and uses a coaxing tone I haven’t heard since I was eight. “Six Flags for the day. Ride the Steamin’ Demon until you barf Twix bars all over me.”
“One time!” I squeal, socking him in the stomach. “Who fed me all the Twix bars?”
Relief softens his tense expression, and he chuckles. “I paid for it.”
“I felt really bad that I did that to you.”
“I know you did.” He pats my leg. “Let’s go. Nosy Nathan’s about to make another stop here.”
“Cut it out. He was nice to me.” I turn slightly and pick up my iced coffee. “He gave me a gift card for Starbucks.”
Remy rolls his eyes. “Of course he did.”
“You do realize some guys can be nice without ulterior motives, right?”
“Haven’t met one yet.”
“So you stopped to help Mrs. Hollister fix her flat tire because you wanted to get in her pants?”
He chuckles. “That’s different.” His gaze narrows in Nathan’s direction. “Actually, I’m glad he was keeping an eye on you. Never know what kind of creeps are trolling the airports looking for lonely runaways to exploit.”
“Jesus, you’re dark.”
“The world is dark, Molly.” He stands and holds out his hand to me. “I worry about you all the time. Can’t protect you if I don’t know where the hell you are. Scared the shit out of me when I saw your bed was empty and Griff’s car was gone.”
I drop my gaze to my sneakers to hide the guilty expression creeping over my face. Remy knows I took an Uber here but hasn’t asked me what I did with Griff’s car that I’d been driving since Griff left for the show. Does he already know I parked and left it right next to the garage where I destroyed my car? Shoot, leaving it at the scene of the crime was probably a dumb idea. Everyone knows I’d been driving Griff’s car for the last few weeks.
“Well, I’m fine,” I mumble.
“Still don’t need guys trying to pick you up right now—”
His abrupt stop prickles against me. What else was he about to say? “Wait. Do you think I’m so desperate and heartbroken that I’ll jump on the first guy who pays attention to me? To get even with Griff or something?”
Guilt crawls over his expression. “Not exactly.”
“Sheesh.” I press my fingertips to his chest and push, not that he goes anywhere.
“Your first real breakup.” He shrugs. “And everything being so…”
“Public?” I finish for him. “Look, just because you like to swoop in and bang girls on the rebound, doesn’t mean every girl responds to a breakup that way.” No, some of us take a baseball bat to a perfectly beautiful, innocent car.
He frowns and plows his fingers through his hair. “I’m not even sure what to say to that.”
“Aww, Remington Holt—speechless. Don’t see that every day.”
“Don’t get used to it.” He slings his arm around my shoulders. “Let’s get out of here. We can talk more on the road.”