Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 106464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 532(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 532(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
“Man, he is amazing. And sexy as fucking ever—an—”
“—almost married.” I glare at her with narrowed eyes. Orson is about to marry India from school. Twist of fate, she ended up being the daughter of the cook his father hired, which was why she had appeared at the party that night. Apparently, they got into the same school too. Cute. For some people, it just works out.
Sloane groans, stomping her foot as we make our way back into the house. “Is he really though? I mean, just because they’re having a child together, I don’t see why they have to get married.”
I shake my head, scolding Sloane. “He’s literally in love with her. He tells me all the fucking time, and she is a good woman. Stop it. Drop Orson.” One, because I don’t feel like talking about him in the sense that it’s bringing back thoughts of seeing Royce just the other night, and two, I’ve only just started talking with Orson and Storm again after they left to go on with their lives. They didn’t want to leave me so soon after Royce, but it’s not like they had a choice. They had to move on with their life and do what they needed to do. I’m not sure either of them could really help me anyway. I loved my brothers, but I was certain that having them around would only intensify the pain that Royce inflicted with his absence. Like constant reminders of what I had and lost.
“Fine.” Sloane snickers, kicking my door closed behind herself while making her way to the duffel bag that’s at the end of my bed. “But text Matty to see what he’s doing, since I’m bored. We need to have a final SF drink because I’m never coming back here.”
After Royce left, I was a shell of the girl I once was, and I don’t think I’ll ever find a home there again. My friends did their best, but the best didn’t help when all I wanted was him.
“Come on, Jade!” my mom yells from downstairs. “We’re going to be late if we don’t get on the road right now. It’s a long drive.” I love my Mom. I agreed to stay behind and do my first year at Stanford after she had her first panic attack. It took a while for me to convince her that she wasn’t losing “both” her kids and that attending UCLA was always my end game. I wanted to be with Sloane and to branch out away from The Bay area. She came to the idea eventually, but was adamant that she was driving me.
“Coming!” I holler, throwing my backpack over my shoulder. I take one last look around my bedroom. The dark purple walls aged into a burned lilac; the bed unmade. I won’t miss it at all. Memories flash through my head.
The bed.
The walls.
The scent.
Once I reach downstairs, I open my car door and glare at her. “You do know I’m totally capable of driving myself? It’s why you bought me this pretty BMW M8 Grand Coupe. You know. So I can drive this ridiculously expensive car and be safe.”
She waves me off, putting her seatbelt on in the passenger seat. “Nonsense. I get to fly home. It works perfectly.”
There was a pileup on the highway which extended our travel time further. The drive was long. So freaking long that we ended up stopping for a night to break the trip in half. But it’s Sunday and I am here. Finally.
I slam the door closed and smile at Mom.
“I’m so proud of you, sweetheart,” she whispers, her eyes never falling from mine. I love my mom. She’s everything a girl would ever ask for in one, but she isn’t perfect. No parent is, only mine failed me a little more than most.
“Thanks, Mom. I wa—”
I hear a loud rumble of bikes behind me, but I don’t turn. There’s no point. It won’t be him and bikers obviously go to college too.
The bikes pull up right beside my car and my mom’s face pales before a smile stretches wide. I already know what she’s going to say before his name leaves her lips.
“Royce?”
My mouth snaps closed, still refusing to turn and face the music.
“I wasn’t expecting you—all of you…”
“Hey, Ma, thought I’d come see my little sister off on her first day at a brand-new college. You know, catching up on those years…” His voice was like silk inside of a bad dream. You knew you shouldn’t listen to the way it sashays in the wind, but you can’t help but be hypnotized by it.
I finally turn to face him, but I’m momentarily thrown by how many bikers there are behind him, as well as an older man on the bike to the side. They’re all wearing the same leather vests.