Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 37885 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 152(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37885 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 152(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
But, what he doesn’t quite understand is, inside, I feel small. He’s the only one that makes that feel okay.
Just thinking about him, my cheeks turn warm and that funny, gripping tension blooms in my belly.
A wash of dark self-loathing covers me. The mad crush I have on my own stepbrother is enough to send me straight to the gates of hell. Talk about rule breaking.
He’s my brother, for heck-sake. We’ve basically grown up together but the last few years these feelings have taken on a persona all their own and I can’t seem to stomp them out like I used to.
I clear my throat, consciously straightening my spine and answer Cindy, “My dad just bought another house. On the south side of the lake.” I glance down the street where Dutton, my driver, is watching me closely as he leans against the black Lincoln with a dent in the fender and a missing hubcap. He’s my only friend outside of Rosaria from school. He’s been my driver for four years now. I would have asked him to drive me to New York, but he’s leaving later today for his brother’s wedding.
As for me, I don’t drive. The idea of all the rules and the possibility of ever being pulled over are more than my OCD can process.
I knew Allen sold our old summer house and bought a new place, but what I didn’t know was none of our stuff had been moved in from the old house yet. It’s in storage for some dumb reason and the new place came ‘furnished’ if you can call it that. So, it’s like living in an AirBnb. It’s nice, don’t get me wrong, but it’s smaller than our other summer place and just…impersonal.
Cindy nibbles her lower lip, scanning her crew who all grin knowingly at each other. “South side.” She sniffs. “Nice. Quaint.”
In Harbor Shores, where the rich and bored spend their summers, quaint is another word for low-end.
I hear Jackson’s voice…
Don’t take shit from anyone, Mina. You need to realize you are strong and amazing. Don’t doubt yourself so much, lil’ mint…
I wish he was around all the time. And not just to protect me, like he’s done my whole life if I’m being honest. But, the NFL draft is coming up and it’s just another reminder that his life is taking him to do great things, far away. More so than college, even. The empty hole inside of me is growing as big as his fame and success.
He flew in for my graduation, took an all-night flight after some charity bowl game thing. We’ve seen less and less of each other since he left for training and college and I went away to Chatsbury Prep in Connecticut while he played quarterback for USC.
California. So. So. Far. Away.
Tucker, one of the summer kids I’ve vaguely known for years, chuckles as he taps on his screen. “Hey, everyone, listen to this. Millionaire heiress Lena Caruso has been found alive and well after a search involving three agencies and a life-changing reward offered by her shipping magnate father.”
“Lena’s been found?” Cindy sounds mildly interested and I recall the Caruso’s owning one of the largest houses in Harbor Shores.
“Yeah, but it’s who she was found with,” Tucker says, still grinning. “Some lumberjack from fucking West Virginia. I bet her dad was furious. I bet her knocked her rich ass the fuck up so he could get on the Caruso money train.”
Tucker makes a motion like he’s pulling the train whistle in the air as Cindy frowns on a shrug showing a hint of humanity. “At least they were willing to do something daring for love.”
“Oh come on. He’s poor. It’s not love, it’s finance.”
“I think it’s romantic,” Cindy snaps on a glare at Tucker. “I hope they tell her dad to fuck off and go live in their log cabin. Anyway,” she turns my way, “if Jackson isn’t here, we should go. Don’t want to keep Wilhelmina from her…what is in the bag? A sack lunch?”
The brown paper crinkles as I clutch the rolled over top, easing it behind my back.
“I gotta go.” It’s the best I can manage as far as not taking shit right now, but getting away is a form of taking control, right?
“Let’s go.” Reagan Murrow, Cindy’s right-hand woman nods down the street where I see a flashy silver Bentley convertible. “You’re leaving for your road trip to New York in three days, I want to have some fun before you disappear on me for a month. Top-down time!”
Did she just say New York? Road trip?
Summon courage. Hear Jackson’s voice. Speak up!
“You’re going to New York?” I choke out, attempting to sound casual. “Driving to New York?”
I grip the paper bag as though it’s full of diamonds. The final zipper is inside. With a few days to finish some seams and hand work, I could be ready…