Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 164557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 823(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 823(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
HARRISON:
Nah, it’s better this way. Dad is always meaner than usual during the holidays. Last few years I’ve avoided him altogether at Xmas.
Sitting at the kitchen table, I stare at the text I just received from Harrison and wonder how the hell to respond to it. It’s the message he sent in response to me saying it’s a bummer he’s spending Christmas in California with friends instead of with his father and grandparents in Nevada. I only recently found out he’s somewhat close with those grandparents. From what he’s described, they seem nice. His father, not so much.
The guilt settles over me, suffocating the joy of being here with my own family. Despite the tension between me and Ava, the house is buzzing with warmth. Christmas music playing softly in the background, the smell of pine from the tree, my mom and Oliver laughing about something as they tidy up the family room after our rowdy game of charades. My dad went for a walk with my sister-in-law, and soon we’re going to put on a cheesy holiday rom-com and watch it in our pj’s.
It’s everything Harrison doesn’t have, and I hate that for him. But I also won’t apologize for my circumstances, the way he seems to want me to.
Ava enters the kitchen, her eyes catching mine before she heads to the fridge to grab a drink. I quickly turn my phone face down on the counter, but not before she notices.
“Is that him? The brother?”
I nod. “Just saying happy holidays.” When I see her frown, I give one of my own. “Stop it. Please. I don’t need the constant looks of disapproval.”
The last few days have been a struggle. Every time we’ve been in the same room, her disappointment has been palpable, radiating off her in waves.
“They deserve to know, Char,” she says now, sounding like a broken record at this point.
“It’s Christmas. I’m not going to drop a bomb on them right now.” I feel defensive, like I have to justify the knot in my stomach that I haven’t been able to untangle since I got here.
She sighs, visibly frustrated, but doesn’t push it further. For now anyway. I have no doubt she’ll push me again later. Ava grabs a wine cooler from the middle shelf, then closes the fridge and walks out of the kitchen.
I know she’s right, but I can’t handle this. Not now. Not with the self-reproach clawing at me every time I glance at my phone and think of Harrison spending the holidays with random friends while I’m here, surrounded by people who love me.
I’m debating taking a walk to clear my head when my phone buzzes again. I tense, expecting another message from Harrison, but it’s Beckett.
I swipe to find a screenshot in our group chat, advertising an all-night rave. The date says it’s tomorrow, and the location is a mere hour’s drive from my family’s house.
My pulse speeds up. I can’t believe they remembered. When I told the guys about my desire to go to a rave, take some molly, and dance all night long, I was only half-serious. It sounds like a ton of fun on paper, but the reality is a bit scary. I’m not a drug girl. Hell, I don’t even like to smoke weed. It gives me headaches.
Another message pops up.
BECKETT:
I’m back from Indy tomorrow morning. Should we go?
But…I think I need this. I need to escape the pressure and the guilt and the weight of all the secrets I’m carrying. There’s still another week left in the holiday break. Ava isn’t flying back to New York for another two days. I need this.
Just one night to regroup. I could meet up with the boys, let loose for twenty-four hours, and then come back here to spend New Year’s with my family.
I hesitate for only a moment before typing back.
ME:
I’m in.
And that’s how I end up at an EDM party near Hartford the following night. I drive out there myself, parking my car in a huge gravel lot behind the sprawling warehouse where the rave is taking place. The cold December air bites at my skin as I step out of the car, adjusting the hem of my dress under my coat. My heart is already racing, and I haven’t even gone inside yet.
I texted the guys when I was five minutes away. Now I watch them striding across the lot toward me, my heart skipping a beat at the sight of them. I haven’t seen them in a week, and I’m startled to realize I missed them.
A lot.
It doesn’t hurt that they both look smoking hot tonight. Will is dressed in a black button-down that clings to his broad chest, paired with dark jeans and boots. His hair is styled away from his forehead, emphasizing his chiseled cheekbones and clean-shaven face. Beckett is rocking his usual laid-back style—fitted jacket over a white T-shirt, jeans slung low on his hips, and that casual, cocky smirk that always melts me.