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)
Will falls silent. Several seconds tick by, until finally I see his finger swiping at his phone.
A moment later, Charlotte’s contact info appears on my screen.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHARLOTTE
Inside and out
MY BROTHER’S NAME IS HARRISON LEE STEVENS.
He’s four years older than me. He’s a freelance web designer from Nevada. He arrived in Massachusetts a month ago but hadn’t worked up the courage to approach me until last night.
This is all the information we were able to exchange outside Malone’s. All I was capable of digesting because I had to leave early the next morning and the shock of seeing him had fried my brain.
Now I’m home, surrounded by my family, and there’s nothing more I can do about it until I’m back at school. He asked for a proper meetup, and I agreed. We exchanged numbers, and that’s how we left it.
I want to tell my family, but I’m worried about their reactions. I don’t want to ruin the holiday. We love Thanksgiving, maybe even more than Christmas. Mom goes all out with the decorating. Our front porch is practically drowning in pumpkins. We have a handmade gourd-shaped wreath on the door. Centerpieces full of acorns and—for some reason—antlers, even though we’re not a hunting family and never have been.
My brother’s wife’s family usually joins us, but they’re in Aruba this year, so that leaves just the five of us along with Uncle Erik and his two kids. Ava has a new boyfriend in New York who couldn’t attend, and I’m a bit disappointed about that. When she told me his name is Ash, I had to laugh, because of course it is. They’re both three-letter A names. Ash and Ava—sounds so perfect together. Everyone in this family is perfect.
So rather than invite an emotional and angst-ridden conversation by confessing about Harrison, I don my perfect face and go help Mom prepare the pie. We just stuffed ourselves full of turkey, and now everyone is in the family room ready to play games over dessert. We don’t watch football. We’re not that family. We’re a trivia crew.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Mom asks, watching me stand on my tiptoes to open the top cupboard.
“I’m great.” I pull out the ceramic serving plate she asked for.
“Are you sure? You seem distracted today.”
I turn to face her, holding out the plate. “Just stressed out, I guess. Midterms were rough, so now I’m worried about finals.”
“I’m sure you killed those midterms, Char.”
“I know, but…the grad school programs I’m applying for are so competitive. I just don’t want my GPA to drop…”
I feel the pressure wave swelling in my throat, constricting my windpipe, and I gulp hard, forcing myself to tamp it down.
No. I can’t let the wave engulf me right now. The last time I had an anxiety attack in front of my parents, they were so concerned, they tried to call the paramedics. My sister had to confiscate their phones.
“You worry too much.” Mom tucks my hair behind my ears before cupping my cheeks. “My beautiful, perfect girl. You have nothing to worry about.”
There’s that word again.
Perfect.
“You are brilliant,” she continues, her tone lined with confidence, conviction. “You can do anything you set your mind to. If your GPA drops, you’ll get it back up. You don’t have to stress.”
Dad’s voice sounds from the doorway. “Who’s stressing? Not our future engineer?”
I smile at him. “It’s fine. I’m just mentally preparing myself for finals.”
His eyes crinkle at the corners as he returns the smile. “Oh pshaw. You can pass those in your sleep.” He goes to grab a beer from the fridge. “How are your classes this semester, honey? You barely talk about them when you visit.”
“They’re challenging, but I’m managing. Lots of late nights in the lab.”
His expression softens with pride. “You always were our little night owl. Remember that science fair you won in middle school? If we hadn’t dragged you to bed, you would’ve stayed up all night.”
Mom grins at me. “You beat out all those eighth graders to take first prize. Remember?”
“Yeah. I remember.” I had to skip my best friend’s birthday party at a waterpark that weekend to finish my project. The entire sixth grade went except for me.
I suddenly realize this is the perfect opportunity to tell them about Harrison. We’re alone. No Ava or Oliver offering their two cents on the situation.
I take a breath and open my mouth—at the same time as Ava calls us from the family room.
“Guys! This trivia ain’t gonna answer itself!”
Mom laughs. “Come on. Let’s go kick your father’s ass, sweetheart.”
“In your dreams,” Dad tells her.
My parents aren’t allowed to play on the same team during games anymore because they’re both aggressively competitive. They get too angry when one of them misses a question. To this day, we still mock Dad about one of their epic trivia blowouts. “Anna! How could you miss that question? Everyone knows the Treaty of Phoenice ended the First Macedonian War!!!”