Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 83760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
“Tell him yourself. Do you even want it anymore?” Jett’s question makes my heart ache, and I’m not even sure why. Standing, I walk to my liquor cabinet.
“Of course, I do.” It sounds hollow even to my ears as I grab a bottle of Jack.
“You want a drink?”
“Sure. I’ll drink with you.” He sits down on one of the kitchen barstools.
After taking a swig, I hand it to him.
“Look.” He takes a blast, then another, and sets the bottle on the island.
“I’ve been where you are, brother.”
I throw my head back and laugh. “Jett, you’re so full of shit. When? You have no idea what’s going on in my fucked-up head.” Taking the bottle again, I continue, “I’ve lost my passion. Trust me, you don’t understand.” I want to punch myself. That’s why I’ve been drinking so much. I’m grasping at anything to make this ache go away.
“I’m not here to compete with you about who has had more pain. I’m here to make sure you’re making the right decision.”
“Jesus, I’ll be there. You can all relax. She’s gone,” I grumble as I put the bottle down and hold my hands up.
“Alexandrea?” I yell as I walk around. “Are you hiding?” I wait, dramatically cocking my head to listen. “No?”
I look over at Jett. “See, I made the right decision.” And for a second, I think he’s finally gonna put me out of my misery and hit me. Instead, he grabs my face.
“The fuck, Brett? You love this woman. Do you need me to spell it out for you?”
I pull back, because if he had punched me it would have hurt less.
“Don’t say that.” I point at him, my voice growing louder. “I don’t know what love is.”
“This.” He looks around at the hell I’ve created. “This is love. All of this that you’re feeling is love, Brett. You love Alexandrea. You’re risking everything for her, and you don’t even know it.”
His words buzz around my head like a numerical expression. He doesn’t get it—he can’t.
“Jett.” My voice goes flat. “I’m not you.”
“No, you’re not. You always have to do things the hard way. Push the boundaries. Why did you go to Richard and tell him about Alex if you didn’t want out?”
He grabs the bottle off the island and walks over to me.
“Nothing?” he demands. “No smart answer? You know, Brett, your whole life you’ve been chasing and seeking the ultimate high. Have you ever thought maybe you’ve found it?” He hands me the bottle of Jack.
“Don’t forget, tomorrow at nine o’clock sharp. Wear a suit,” he says over his shoulder as I bring the bottle to my lips.
ALEXANDREA
Staring at my bowl of Cheerios, I force myself to take another bite. Nothing tastes good, nothing feels good. If only I could go back to bed. I’m done crying over him.
Today, I need to drop out of school. I’m throwing in the towel and surrendering. I can’t go there and pretend. It’s not my nature, and as much as I hate the thought of quitting, I need my twin.
I need my family.
Breathing deeply, I glance at my phone next to me.
Just pick it up and call Jude. You need to let him know you’re coming. I take another bite and close my eyes. With all my crying, they feel like someone threw sand in them. And it’s all I can do to breathe through this decision I’m about to make.
Inhale, exhale, it’s like putting one foot in front of the other and getting your ass out of town.
Only I don’t want to go. Leaning my head back, I stare up at the ceiling. Is today actually Friday?
It’s like the last few days have been a horrific dream, almost rendering me numb. I spent Sunday and Monday locked in my room. Tuesday, I made myself get up, take a shower, and pretend I was going to classes, only to drop into bed and cry the rest of that day. Wednesday, I actually made it to my car, where I drove around the block sobbing and screaming at my phone, asking it why he hasn’t texted or called.
Thursday, I didn’t even bother getting out of bed; I just scrolled the Iinternet watching mindless videos, getting angrier, because what the hell?
So I guess that makes it Friday. I grab my phone and press on Jude’s number. Looking out the window, I notice Walter barking at a couple as they walk by.
“Alex, I have ten minutes until class. I called three times last night. What’s going on with you?” I can tell he’s pissed, but I couldn’t talk to him yesterday, considering the condition I was in. He would have freaked.
“Sorry.” I take another deep breath and cross my legs. “I’m kind of in a situation…” Dead silence. Did the call drop?
“Jude?”
“I’m here, go on.” His voice sounds curt.