Total pages in book: 16
Estimated words: 15187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 76(@200wpm)___ 61(@250wpm)___ 51(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 15187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 76(@200wpm)___ 61(@250wpm)___ 51(@300wpm)
Finding my father took a backseat once I found my sisters. The one constant in my life has always been my hero, Logan. He's saved more times than I can count, so it's no wonder I love him. Too bad I'll never be more than his best friend.
Logan
Loving May has been all I've ever done. She's been it for me since the moment I met her. She's keeping a secret from me, and I love her all the more for it. How can I convince her that we can be more than just friends?
This is book five in the President's Daughter's series by ChaShiree M. & M.K. Moore.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
PROLOGUE
MAY
THREE MONTHS AGO
I cannot believe I am finally about to do this. I mean, I am going to do this. I am. I totally am. Right? My mind goes crazy trying to psyche myself up to open the box that was given to me on my eighteenth birthday, but with explicit instructions not to open it until my nineteenth birthday. I thought it was a joke at first. Who would be making sure I didn't just open it anyway? But once I told my best friend, Logan, he practically wrenched it out of my hand and said if that was the instruction, it must be for a good reason, and we are not doing otherwise. Yeah, he is a stickler for rules. Sort of.
“Are you ready to do this?” he asks, sitting beside me on the floor.
Biting my lip, I stare at this freaking box like if I touch it, somehow the world will end, but the truth is, my world ended eight years ago when my father committed suicide, and then my mom OD’d out of grief. I was thrown into foster care, and nothing was ever the same. The only good thing that came out of that was Logan. When I made it to the first group home, he was already there and sort of became my protector. Every year or so I would be moved from one to the other, petrified of being somewhere he wasn’t, but he managed to come with me every single time. To this day, I don’t know how he made that happen, but he did.
“As ready as I'll ever be. Don’t know why I am so nervous. What could I learn here that is more devastating than what I have already been through?” I voice this out loud, but the truth is that is exactly what I have been worried about. How much worse can it get?
“That’s a good point. But, just in case, I brought you this.” From behind his back he hands me one of two mugs we made together at a pottery place the first year we were on our own. Smiling, thinking about the day we made these. I take mine from his hands.
“Mmm. This smells delicious.” I thank him, sniffing the aroma. “Extra...”
“Marshmallows and peppermint chips. Yes. Of course.” He chuckles, finishing my sentence. I can’t help smiling because that has been our whole friendship. He has paid attention to everything about me, from incredibly tiny nuances to the major things. That is one of the reasons I am totally in love with him. But, instead of confessing that truth, I simply give him my sly smile.
“You don’t know me,” I tease him, humming when the chocolatey fragrant drink hits my tongue. My eyes are closed because the first sip is one you want to savor.
“Every fucking detail,” he grumbles. My eyes pop open and he is staring at me, his nostrils flared and jaw grinding. My insides begin to tingle, and since I don't want to choke on this hot cocoa, I swallow it and try to act like I don't notice how his eyes are making me squirmy.
“Alright. Let’s do this.” Opening the box, nothing seems familiar about anything that is in it initially. I don’t understand papers, bills that have nothing to do with me, and pictures I am unsure what to make of. But then, I come across a small locket in a plastic envelope and the tears start instantly because I know what is in it. My mom used to wear it around her neck every day. Inside is a picture of her and me as a newborn. “Momma,” I whimper, ripping the locket from the envelope and opening it up. And like a burst of sun on a rainy day, there it is, the picture I still see in my dreams.
Before I can stop myself, I am clutching it against my chest and ugly crying into Logan's arms. “Shit, May. I wish I could fix this for you,” he says, kissing the side of my head.
“Why wasn’t I enough?” I ask him, my voice wobbly and broken. “Why was I never enough?” I used to ask myself this all the time after it happened. We weren’t enough for my father and then my mom didn’t love me enough to stay either.
“You are more than enough,” he whispers. “For me.” I think that is what I heard, but what do I know? I can’t stop crying. He moves slightly and then puts another envelope in my face. “I think this might be a letter.” Sitting up a little, I wipe my nose with the back of my hand and take it from him.
“Thank you.” Opening it, I take a deep breath and read.
My sweet girl,
If you are reading this, you should be an adult now, living a free and happy life. But it also means I am not with you. I know you have questions and might not understand, but I want you to know it wasn’t you, May. You were everything we could have hoped for. You are kind, bright, and so smart. But there are things in life and choices you make that seem like a good idea at the time, but then they turn out to be painful, unfixable, and leave you without hope. I am reluctant to explain any of this to you, but after losing your father earlier this month and knowing what I am about to do, I owe you this much.