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)
“What’s going on, mate?” I push.
There’s a long silence. Charlie must sense the tension, because she lifts her head from her laptop.
“Will?” she says, frowning.
He doesn’t break the eye contact, focused only on me. “Your dad told me about Shannon.”
My breath jams in my throat, and for a moment, I feel like I’ve had the wind knocked out of me. Fucking hell, Dad. He knows I don’t like advertising that shit.
Charlie’s apprehension is aimed at me now. “What? Who’s Shannon?”
“Your ex,” Will prompts, not quite mocking me, but there’s an edge to his words. “That’s what you’ve always referred to her as, right? Your ex?”
I clench my jaw.
“Beckett,” Charlie says. “What’s going on?”
Will glances at our girl. “Shannon wasn’t an ex who cheated on Beck,” he says flatly. “She was his girlfriend who died.”
Charlie stares at me. Speechless.
Will tips his chin at me. “Isn’t that right?”
“Yeah,” I mutter. “That’s right.”
“What the fuck, Beck? Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you let us think Shannon cheated on you?”
I shrug, trying to play it off like it doesn’t matter. Like I hadn’t lied to my best friend about something so significant.
Charlie blinks, still looking stunned. “She didn’t cheat on you? She died? How?”
When I don’t answer, Will fills in the blanks. “Leukemia,” he says.
“Why would you lie about that?” Charlie exclaims.
I don’t look at either of them. I can’t.
“Beckett,” she pushes.
“Charlotte. I didn’t want to talk about it then,” I say irritably, “and I sure as hell don’t want to talk about it now.”
Now they’re both staring at me in disbelief.
“You can’t just pretend it didn’t happen,” she says. “You can’t brush it off like it’s nothing.”
Anger rises inside me, not at them but at the whole damn situation. “I’m not brushing it off. I just don’t want to be that guy. The one everyone pities and looks at like he’s broken. After Shannon died, everyone treated me like I was some kind of charity case, walking on eggshells around me. I fucking hated it.”
“So you made up a story?” Will is incredulous. “You’d rather people think she cheated on you than know the truth?”
“Yeah, I would. At least that way, people stopped feeling sorry for me.”
“But you’re still hurting.” Charlie reaches out and touches my arm, but I shrug it off.
“I’m fine. It was a long time ago. I’m over it.”
“Are you?” Will challenges. “Because you don’t seem fine.”
“What do you want me to say? That I’m still torn up about it? That I think about her every damn day? What’s the point? She’s gone, and I had to move on. So I did.”
I slide off the couch, needing to remove myself from this situation.
Charlie gets up too, stepping in front of me. Her eyes fill with that soft, stubborn empathy that grates on me.
I clench my teeth. Shannon’s death gutted me, and the truth is, I haven’t entirely moved on. I’d simply shoved it so far down that I didn’t have to feel it every day. But now, with them standing here, it feels like someone is tearing open the wound and scraping a dull razor blade over it, twisting and mutilating scar tissue that never fully healed.
I can’t stand the way they’re looking at me. The sympathy, the concern. It’s too much.
So I shove past them, ignoring Charlie calling my name, ignoring Will’s half-formed words.
The front door slams behind me, and I’m outside, shirtless in the biting February cold, snow crunching under the boots I barely had the presence of mind to throw on. My breath fogs in the air, each exhale sharp against the frozen night.
I don’t know where I’m going, but I need to get out of here. Away from their questions.
My sweatpants hang low on my hips, offering no warmth, but I don’t care. My body feels numb. Numb like it did that day.
“Beckett!” Her voice cuts through the quiet night. She’s coming after me. I hear her steps running through the snow.
I keep walking. I don’t want to stop. If I stop, I’ll have to face it.
“Beckett, please.” She’s closer now, and suddenly, her hand latches on to my bicep, tugging me to a stop. “Please, talk to me.”
I turn, chest heaving, but not from the cold. Charlie’s eyes are wide, full of concern, her breath coming out in shallow clouds. The moonlight makes her look fragile, but she’s out here, chasing me into the freezing cold because she loves me.
“You really want to know?” I snap, harsher than I mean to.
She doesn’t flinch, though. She nods, desperate for me to let her in.
“She fucking died.” The words feel like broken glass in my throat. I try to swallow, but it doesn’t help. “The leukemia ate her alive, piece by piece. And it came out of fucking nowhere. Diagnosed late. So aggressive that treatment was completely ineffective.”