Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 123435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 617(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 617(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
“You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself of that.”
“Maybe I am. I mean, I know what my dad saw in her. She’s gorgeous, obviously. And she’s very charming when she wants to be. Funny, sociable. When she puts on her act, she’s the most lovable person you’ll ever meet. She’ll be coming to town mid-August, so I’m sure you’ll experience the act for yourself.”
I wrinkle my brow. “What makes you think it’s an act?”
“Because I’ve seen the person behind the mask. She’s manipulative. Entitled. Hypercritical. She gets a kick out of putting you down, then plays the victim when you call her out on it. And don’t get me started on the total lack of empathy. There isn’t an empathetic bone in her body. She’s the most self-centered person I’ve ever known.”
“Man, that’s rough. Has she always been like that?”
“I think so. For as long as I can remember, anyway. And although my grandmother would never say a bad word about her own children, I can tell she’s disappointed with Mom’s behavior. Especially when it comes to all the passive-aggressive bullshit, the scathing criticism. She wasn’t too awful to me when I was little, but she was constantly snapping at Dad. I remember thinking he had the patience of a saint. It wasn’t until after the divorce, once she and I were alone all the time, that she turned most of her vitriol toward me. Suddenly she always had something to bitch about, some element of my appearance to disparage, some immoral behavior to call out.” Cassie offers a weak laugh. “Lucky me.”
I study her face, my heart squeezing at the thought of a young Cassie having to endure her mother’s vile bullshit. But her expression remains detached, accepting even, as if any past—or present—trauma is no big deal.
“You always do that,” I tell her.
“Do what?” Her teeth dig into her lower lip. Finally revealing a trace of emotion.
“Downplay all the shit that hurts you.”
“Because I’m an optimist.” She tucks a section of reddish hair behind her ear, her eyes shining in the moonlight. “No situation is entirely bad. There’s always a silver lining. Always. You just have to look for it.”
“Really? So there’s a silver lining in having your mother treat you like crap?” I say dubiously. “Or your parents getting divorced?”
“If it weren’t for the divorce, I wouldn’t have my little sisters,” Cassie points out. “And I’m quite happy that my sisters exist.”
“You can be happy they exist and still wish the divorce hadn’t happened.”
“True. But honestly, it was probably for the best. Nothing Dad did could ever make her happy. He’s definitely better off without her.” Cassie pushes more hair out of her eyes. It’s getting breezier out, causing those long, wavy strands to fly into her face. “Let me guess—your parents are happily married?”
“Yeah, it’s disgusting.”
We both laugh.
“They’ve always been great role models,” I admit, albeit grudgingly. “That’s why I hate disappointing them. I swear, I’m the only kid who would willingly ground himself or demand extra chores after getting in trouble. This one time in high school, I stayed out all night with the twins. My parents were up till dawn, wearing holes in the carpet from fear I was dead in an alley somewhere. The next morning, I walked in, hungover as fuck, sat on the sofa in front of them, and was like, I think you should ground me for two weeks and put me on permanent dog-poop duty.”
Cassie peals out a laugh. “You are such a loser.”
“First of all—I got laid that night. Losers don’t get laid. Second—don’t tell me you wouldn’t have done the exact same thing, Ms. I Avoid Conflict.”
“Fair. But,” she adds smugly, “I never got in trouble. Ever.”
“I don’t know if that’s something to brag about.”
She starts to answer, then breaks off in a wide yawn. “Oh man. I’m tired.” She blinks a few times. “That just hit me out of nowhere.” She yawns again. “I think it’s time for bed.”
When she unfolds her legs and gets to her feet, I can’t stop a pang of disappointment. I’m working two different jobs tomorrow and yet I want nothing more than to stay up all night talking.
As friends, of course.
But she’s already pulling me to my feet. “Come on, walk me up the path so I don’t trip on a rock or something and crack my head open.”
I offer my arm, then yank it away before she can take it. Her jaw drops, and I cock a brow. “On one condition—you bid on me this weekend.”
“Nope.”
“You’re really going to throw me to the wolves like that? The cougar wolves?”
“Oh my God, drama queen. All right,” she relents. “How about this? I’ll bid—only if I see the cougars making their move.”
“Thank you. You’re the best.”
Cassie grabs my arm and links hers through it. “No promises,” she warns.