Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 101736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
“Yeah.”
It looked like she wasn’t sure if she should ask it. “Is that why you broke up?”
“No. She broke up with me before she found out about that.” Before Sydney could ask, I offered it up. “I didn’t tell her because I was ashamed, and truthfully, I was a shitty person back then. Since then, I’ve been trying hard not to go down the same path my dad did. To be different.” I blinked against my uncomfortable feelings. “I don’t know. To be better.”
She gave me a discerning look, like she was reevaluating everything about me. It made me uneasy, and I hadn’t a clue what face I was making, but I hoped she could see my remorse.
“Cassidy was my best friend,” I sucked in a breath, “and the first girl I ever loved. I don’t know how I would have survived my first year with my dad without her. I’m always going to regret that I repaid her by treating her like shit.”
Sydney’s gaze was fixated on me, and the longer we held each other’s stare, the more intense and tighter it became. When I’d seen her last year at my graduation party, I’d locked eyes with her and waited for her to look away, but tonight it was my turn to break first.
I dropped my gaze to the cutting board in front of her and the shallot she’d abandoned.
“You are different,” she said finally. Her hand closed around the knife handle, readying to pick it up. “Think you’ll ever cheat again?”
“No.” My tone was absolute because I believed it absolutely. “Never.”
She seemed pleased with my answer and resumed her work. Once she finished making the cuts, she moved on to dicing. The quick cuts of her knife were so skilled and precise, it was mesmerizing to watch.
“You said you and your dad didn’t have a good relationship back then. It’s good now?” She probably wasn’t trying to sound skeptical, but I heard it anyway.
“It’s . . . complicated,” I admitted. “Living here with them is not ideal, but it’s rent free, and it won’t be for much longer.”
“You’re moving out?”
“If they get married? I think I’d have to.”
She jolted. “They’re getting married?”
“He hasn’t said anything to me yet, but I think it’s coming.”
Once again, her knife slowed. “Oh, wow.”
Was she thinking about what this meant? How my ex-girlfriend would become my stepmother? It was kind of fucked up.
She peered at me with eyes full of empathy and her voice was hushed. “How do you feel about that?”
“I don’t know. Okay-ish? Which is weird. I feel like I definitely shouldn’t be okay with it, but they’re both happy. Very much in love, and he treats her the way she deserves, so . . . I’m okay with it.”
She tilted her head, and it looked like she was reevaluating me for a second time. “That’s really mature of you.”
Her compliment did something to me. Warmth spread through my center and a soft smile edged my lips. “Thanks.”
She smiled back, and as her knife began to move, she held my gaze for an extra moment. It was like she didn’t want to break the spell between us and—
“Motherfucker,” she hissed, jerking her hand back from the cutting board.
It was stunning to hear that word come out of her mouth.
And I didn’t understand what had happened until she lifted her hand to inspect it, and a line of bright red blood gushed down her finger.
SEVENTEEN
Preston
Sydney was calm, but panic poured into my stomach, making me leap up out of my seat. My feet couldn’t move fast enough as I sprinted around the counter to get to her.
Blood ran in rivulets down her hand, and just as I reached her, she went on the move, hurrying to the sink. She slapped the lever up on the faucet to get the water going, and then shoved her hand under the stream, grimacing.
“Are you okay?” I asked, even when I knew the answer was no. There was so much blood, the cut had to be bad.
“Yeah,” she gritted. Her finger came out from under the water, only to turn red again and steadily drip blood into the sink. “I just nicked it. I don’t think I sliced anything off.”
“You don’t think you—” I repeated in shock.
Finally, my brain started to work.
“Where are you going?” she demanded as I tore out of the kitchen.
“Dad!” I crossed the living room and rushed toward his bedroom, yelling with that urgent pitch that could only mean something was wrong.
He’d heard it because by the time I had his door open, he was right on the other side.
“What’s wrong?” His gaze swept over me, searching for signs of trauma.
“She cut herself,” I blurted, and started back for the kitchen, knowing he’d follow me.
He had no idea who ‘she’ would be, since I hadn’t mentioned anyone was coming over, and I didn’t know if he recognized her when he spotted her at the sink. Maybe that part of his mind turned off when he went into doctor mode. He hurried to join her at the sink and grasped her wrist.