Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 46858 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46858 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
“Hey, sis.” Hudson emerges from his bedroom, jabbing the air, his brown hair messy from sleep. “How’s it going?”
I smile at my older brother. He’s twenty-two, tall and lean, with eyes that seem far older. People have said the same about me.
Tragedy will do that to a person.
“Fine. Well, not fine. I’ve got no clue how I’m going to pass this math module.”
“I thought they gave you personal tutors?” Hudson asks, wandering over as he stifles a yawn.
He worked late last night at the factory, despite his dreams of teaching martial arts to kids. He was training full-time before mom and dad….
But I can’t go there. Can’t face it.
Not yet. Not alone.
“They do,” I say. “But….”
I wave a hand at our old clock, hanging from the wall. Everything in here is old and slightly depressing. Or maybe more than slightly. But mom and dad didn’t leave us any money, so we were forced to do our best.
I’ll forever be grateful to Hudson, even if it pains me he had to quit his dreams of becoming a martial artist.
“But what?” he asks.
“I don’t want to bother him first thing in the morning.”
“Della.” Hudson kneels next to the desk, staring at me firmly. He looks so much like dad when he does that, I could cry. “They wouldn’t have given you that number if it was an inconvenience. Plus, it’s a text, right? He can just ignore it until he wants to respond.”
I glance at the list of tutors, which I placed next to my textbook when I started.
Elias Strong, that’s the math one.
“What would I even send?” I ask.
“Is that the problem you’re stuck on?” Hudson asks, gesturing at the book.
I nod.
“Maybe send a photo of that, and mention a few ways you’d like some help. Remember the speech that British lady gave you when you first started? This is your second chance. Don’t let anything get in the way of that.”
I blink, feeling tears spring into my eyes, love flowing through me with so much force I’m not surprised it provokes something else. Intense fear that Hudson will go, too.
It was only the fact he was at training that saved him….
No, no, no.
I hate her. But I can’t even wish she was dead.
Jess.
She already is.
Hudson frowns gently. “It’s all going to be okay, sis. All this bad stuff, all this pain…it’s just a part of our history now. That’s all. We have to accept it. But I won’t accept you not taking this chance because you think you’re being an inconvenience.”
I wipe tears from my cheeks, just a couple. “Maybe you should be the counselor.”
“Nah.” Hudson grins. “I only have the patience when it comes to you. With anybody else, I’d struggle not to tear their goddamn head off.”
I laugh, grabbing my cell phone. “Okay, I’ll do what you said. There’s no point in me staring at this book anyway. Nothing’s going in.”
“It’s math. It sucks. But you’ll get it. Want some breakfast?”
I nod gratefully, and Hudson walks into the kitchen.
I mutter a silent thanks that I have him, the way I always do when we speak like this. Whatever else is true, whatever else has happened, we’ve got each other.
I wonder what he’d say if I told him about the man I saw from the bus, if I explained how I can’t stop thinking about him and how I want his babies, a life, a future, all with a stranger.
Thank you so much, I type as I ride the bus toward the college. A light rain is falling, giving the dock and the sea beyond it a hazy look. I’ll take another look at the problem when I get home. It’s Della Jones, by the way.
I add the last part in case he didn’t save my number.
But then, the second I sent it, I wondered if I needed to. Was that a dork move?
Sounds good, Elias responds. Let me know if you need anything else. We can also arrange a one-on-one session if that would be convenient for you.
I sit back, closing my eyes, deciding this is the moment. Right here. The point at which I stop obsessing about the man whose name I’ll never know.
There’s enough to do with college, the restaurant, and occasionally, trying to sleep.
I arrive early, waiting outside the classroom with my phone in my hand. I don’t even have social media anymore. All the condolences became too much, so I deleted my accounts and haven’t created new ones yet.
But I stare anyway, a way not to make eye contact with my classmates.
Then a woman appears in front of me. “Hey.”
I look up. She’s a few years older than me. I’d guess she was tall and sophisticated in her blazer and smart trousers. Her hair is blonde, tied back in a tight ponytail, her features sharp but also friendly…