Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 173796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 869(@200wpm)___ 695(@250wpm)___ 579(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 173796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 869(@200wpm)___ 695(@250wpm)___ 579(@300wpm)
I look to him and as if he knew what I was going to say, he rasps, “They’re already on their way.”
I nod, and he sighs, coming up and wrapping his arms around me.
“Is she going to be okay?”
“Yeah.” He nods, sounding as unsure of his answer as I am.
“What mother would hide something like this?”
“She’s not a mother.” My brother glares. “She’s a heartless bitch. Payton is carrying a piece of that woman’s son. She should be worshipping the girl, begging for forgiveness for treating her like shit their entire relationship. She’s not a mother,” he repeats.
Those are the last words spoken for several hours, and finally, my mom and dad are knocking on the door.
Nate welcomes them in and they give their round of hugs.
Parker answers the questions he can and shows my mom to Payton’s room, where she stays for the rest of the evening, my dad in the kitchen whipping up something warm.
Hours go by, and we fall asleep, all to wake up every so many minutes, a restlessness in all of us.
Around four in the morning, my dad shakes my shoulders and my eyes pop open. “Come on, sweetheart. I’m driving you guys back.”
I begin to shake my head, but he gives a stern nod, so I climb to my feet, finding the others all around doing the same thing.
My dad drives us all back to the house, parking at the curb. He turns, squeezing my hand. “Get some sleep, honey, we’ll cook brunch down at Nate’s around noon or so. We’ll call you, okay?”
“If she wants us to come back—”
“I’ll let you know. I think she just wants to be alone a minute.”
“Mason is camped outside her door.”
“Well, Mase is Mase. We just gotta let him do what he thinks he needs to do.”
“You traumatized him when you told us about Aunt Ella’s death.”
He nods. “You might be right, but you guys had just started taking off on your bikes and roaming through the neighborhoods, so you need to know how dangerous that was.”
“Was it hard, after she died?”
His smile is sad. “Yeah, honey, it was. I didn’t ride a bike for years after that, and when it was time for me to get my licenses, I was too afraid to drive, thinking I might hit someone like someone hit her.”
“Your parents shouldn’t’ have blamed you,” Brady mumbles from the back seat. “That wasn’t your fault, Uncle E.”
My dad signs, nodding slightly. “I know, son, but death is hard for people, and you don’t really know how you’ll handle it until it happens.” His shoulders seem to fall, but he jerks his chin. “Go on. We’ll see you guys tomorrow.”
With that, the four of us go inside.
Everyone drops onto the couches, but I silently slip out the back door, making my way down the dock. The sun is still hidden behind the horizon, but it will be rising soon.
I walk to where the water meets the wooden posts, strip my shoes off, and submerge my feet in the cold water.
It’s always been a peaceful place for me, the ocean, so full of possibilities and hope.
I’ve always loved how while nothing changes here, it’s also never the same. The waves vary minute by minute, the lines in the sand crease then curve. It’s a true wonder, the ocean. Strong and dominant, yet soft and fragile, like the shattered shells pushed to the surface, just to be swept away with the tide. The imperfections are there, but hidden, buried, only those willing to dig down deep will discover the flaws of the sea.
With a soft sigh, I close my eyes, listening to the roar of the waves before me, and inhale as much as my lungs will allow. The salty wisps in the air hit my throat, and the suffocating sensation plaguing me with begins to wash away.
Today was horrible, tragic, and serves as yet another reminder that no matter the choices we make, anything can come in and stir up our lives at any moment. Chances are, we’d never see it coming, and that’s terrifying.
I think about my family and friends, of my own personal dreams and the life I want for myself down the road. And then I think about it being stolen from under me, just like it was from Payton. Like the waves are stealing the sand from beneath my feet this very moment with their fight for dominance, leaving the ground beneath me unsteady, as unsteady as the world around me suddenly feels.
Maybe it’s dramatic or silly but moisture fills my eyes as they open to stare at the moon’s gleam bouncing along the water’s surface, fading more and more the closer it gets to shore.
The waves splash higher then, the cold burning my skin, but I don’t move away, and in the next moment, someone steps beside me.