Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 137433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 550(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 550(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
“All right, boys. Ready to grab lunch?” Dad walks over to us. His eyes are red, but he actually looks like they had a good talk. One thing my mother’s death has taught me is that people die but the love you feel for them stays alive. And that love? It is the most precious memory you can have. More than photos, videos, or any kind of inheritance.
“Are we gonna meet Dixie there?” Knight pokes as we all head over to our cars.
“No.” Dad makes a face. “She doesn’t always come.”
“That’s why you should always start with foreplay and oral.” Knight winks.
Dad flicks Knight’s back. “That woman birthed you. Do you have no moral lines?”
“Clearly not.” Knight makes a face. “No, but seriously, is Dixie coming?”
“No,” Dad groans.
“Aww, but I want my new mommy.” Knight pouts.
Dad and I both shove him forward in unison, which only makes the three of us laugh harder.
Sometimes, it’s okay to not be okay.
Chapter
Lev
Miserable Fact #98: Most people die within a five-mile radius from the place where they were born.
I slam my locker shut, and Grim’s head pops up on the other side, a shit-eating grin on his face.
“Stop looking so happy. It’s ruining my day.” I hoist my backpack over my shoulder and trudge my way out the doors.
He follows me, wiggling his brows.
“How could I not when Thalia is going around telling people you guys are gonna miss each other like crazy when you go to Jackson Hole?” He cackles. “Which, by the way, is probably the only hole you’ll be enjoying for the foreseeable future, knowing your track record with Miss Followhill.”
Dipshit.
Also, what business does Thalia have saying stuff like that? We’re supposed to be fake dating. This is real annoying.
“We’re not together anymore,” I mutter under my breath, waltzing out the doors toward the parking lot. “Just saving face so people keep their mouths shut.”
“Shocking.” Grim falls into step with me.
“Keep your mouth shut about it, yeah?”
“Hold on a moment, gotta cancel the press conference.”
Swear to God, this dude is made out of pure sarcasm.
He probably bleeds one-liners. I get to my car and unlock it, tossing my backpack in the passenger seat, getting ready to climb in.
Grim blocks my way. “Not so fast. We need to talk.”
Alarm bells blast in my head. Grim is not a talk-it-out kind of person, so it must be serious. I fold my arms, slowly raking my eyes over his face. “Make it quick.”
“I wanna do another vote for team captain,” he says matter-of-factly. “You’re slipping, your mind’s not in the game, and you’re missing practices left and right.”
“The team has already voted,” I say blandly. Unfortunately. I didn’t want this, but I can’t walk away from this, either.
I’m not a quitter, and being an All Saints football hero is my family’s legacy.
“I was next in line by two votes.”
“Well, shit, Grim. I forgot the rules have changed and second place now gets the cake.”
“You’re already the president of the debate club, have a thousand AP classes, and three volunteer stints. Your résumé is fucking sick.”
“I worked hard for all of those things.” I grit my teeth. “Spat blood, mind you.”
“Look.” Grim sticks his hand through his hair. “You don’t even attend every practice. Your mind is off the game. I actually want this. My parents are gonna strong-arm my ass into a life of billable hours and never-ending fucking arguments on behalf of rich people. I haven’t gotten any offers yet. I need the airtime. Do me this solid, Cole.”
I want to. Fuck, there’s nothing I want more than to dump this football bullshit and go my merry way.
But Dad. It’s the only thing giving him joy these days.
And there’s also something else—the high I get out of being hot shit. The best in school. In the zip code, really.
This is the only real place I’m getting any validation these days, even if that makes it even more narcissistic.
Grim sees the answer on my face. He sucks his cheeks in, then spits on the ground beside me.
“This is my dream,” he croaks, and I’ve never seen him more serious in my life.
His nostrils flare, and he looks like he is holding his breath. “I’m not asking you to hand it over, man. Just let the team vote again.”
I wish I could turn my back on my dad’s dreams. On Knight’s expectations. But they’re all I have, and it’s important to them, so I have to make this captaincy important to me. Somehow.
“Dude, I’m sorry,” I groan, slipping into my car.
I get back from school to an envelope in our mailbox.
That’s pretty rare, since we pay our bills online and all the junk is thrown out by our housekeeper.
I pull the letter out of the box and take it inside, flipping it over.
My throat is dry.