Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
“Really? That’s surprising. I would’ve guessed your father would’ve been the one trying to hide all that.”
“Neither of them actively wanted me to be a criminal. Dad was more willing to talk about his job and the people he worked for, and I thought it was all endlessly fascinating. He’d talk to me about what they were like and what they could do, while Mom never went into detail about her past. She said it was all over and done with, and I was better off living like a normal person. She said life was better that way.”
“She was probably right.”
“Maybe, but I don’t know. She died without ever giving me anything real. I mean, they gave me a good childhood, it was genuinely comfortable and happy, but I don’t feel like I ever knew them. Mom never opened up about what she was like before me, and Dad kept her secrets because he loved her.”
“That’s why you want to talk to your sister.”
I turn and look back at him. “She knows more about my mother than I ever will. Isn’t that terrible? I lived with my mother my whole life, and I don’t know her at all.”
“It’s a shame but I doubt Reina is going to have a heart-to-heart talk with you anytime soon.”
“Who knows. You opened up. Maybe she will too.”
He laughs at that and slowly stands. “You’re right. I’ll be more careful next time.” He walks over and guides me back into position. “Now, I want you to shoot and keep shooting until you’ve hit the target ten times in a row.”
I groan. “You bastard.”
“It’s the only way I know how to make you really learn.” He puts the gun in my hands. “Now, fire.”
I squeeze off rounds. Over and over until my hands feel like they’re blistering. But by the end of the day, as the sun’s beginning to set, I hit that target ten times, twenty times, thirty times in a row. It’s not perfect, but it’s a start, and as we walk back to the house, I feel like I’ve accomplished something hard for the first time in my life. And Peter seems genuinely proud of me in a way I’m sure his father never showed him.
We walk shoulder to shoulder, practically holding hands. There’s an easy, happy comradery between us. I think of the kiss and wonder what he’d taste like right now—a little of his sweat mixed into the heady bouquet of his tongue. I can imagine his hands on my body, my sticky body, as he licks sweat from my nipples. I almost want him to make my back arch, to make my mouth moan.
“Why won’t you touch all that money your parents left you?”
His question comes out of nowhere and all that giddy physical excitement blows away like smoke in wind.
I cross my arms over my chest and put some distance between us. “Why are you asking me that?”
“I’ve been wondering it since we met. Your parents left you a fortune, and you famously won’t spend it. Famously in our circle anyway. Why would anyone do that?”
I stare at the ground. “I don’t owe you an answer.”
“I know. But I’m curious.”
“Then go be curious somewhere else.” I speed up my pace, not looking at him. “I don’t want to talk about the money.”
He says nothing as I move away from him and angle toward the beach. I glance back over my shoulder and he’s only standing there, watching me. We’re within sight of the house, which means I won’t get lost, although right now I want to lose myself.
I hate that he asked about the money. All this time and he hadn’t mentioned it, and now suddenly, he’s curious. Why would he care? It’s money, there’s nothing special about it, only that there’s a lot of the stuff stuck in a trust fund accumulating interest. None of it matters and I don’t owe him an explanation. I don’t owe anyone anything, and that’s the problem.
The money doesn’t define me and I’m sick of people looking at me like I’m some spoiled rich girl. Or an insane rich girl.
But either way, rich.
It’s not that I won’t use the money one day. It’s there and it’s not going anywhere, not unless I die and it gets left to someone else. But my parents passed so suddenly in an accident and when I heard they’d left me more money than I could ever spend, my only thought was dread. What would it make me? What would it turn me into? I used the money to pay for college, but beyond that, I haven’t touched it. And I won’t, not until I’m established on my own and I don’t need it anymore.
A lot of people find that hard to believe, but it comes from something my mother would say.