Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83221 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83221 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Feeling helpless, I glance at Mr. Park. He watches with a blank expression that leaves me hollow inside.
Darren ushers me out of the school and away from Mr. Park. The cold, wintery air blasts into me, making me wish I’d worn a coat today. His suped-up black Camaro is parked in the fire lane out front. Levi is leaning against the car, arms crossed as he waits.
“In the car. Both of you,” Darren growls, releasing his hold on me. “I’ve had enough bullshit today without having to deal with this.”
He hits the fob, unlocking the vehicle. Levi opens the door and lifts the seat, motioning for me to sit in the back. “Ladies first.”
I ignore him and slide into the back. Once they’re both seated and buckled in, Darren peels out, his lame rock music blasting through the speakers.
I wait for him to yell, like he’s known to do, but he doesn’t. It’s not until we’re home and making our way inside that he finds his voice again.
“Are you a fucking idiot?” Darren snarls at Levi. “I could go to prison for that stunt!”
Darren backhands Levi, sending him crashing against the wall. Levi grunts, rubbing at his cheek, a fearful glint in his normally mean blue eyes.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” Levi mutters. “I was just having some fun.”
“Fun?” Darren’s eyes narrow and the vein in his neck throbs. “When were these pictures taken? Before or after Willa’s eighteenth birthday?”
“After,” Levi says quickly. Too quickly. “I swear it.”
“And you,” Darren snaps, turning his venom on me. “Stop traipsing around our house half-naked like a little whore and maybe this shit won’t happen. For Christ’s sake. Go to your rooms before I beat the fuck out of both of you.”
I shudder at the threat. Darren hasn’t hit me, but he’s hit Levi and my mom both enough for me to know he would do the same to me.
“I’m sorry,” I croak out. “It won’t happen again.”
It won’t.
I don’t care if I have to blockade the door every night while I sleep. I’m never letting that prick catch me at a disadvantage ever again.
Callum
I almost crossed a line I wouldn’t be able to come back from.
It’s like I can still smell her—honey and sweet cream, so real I can nearly taste it. This is going beyond an inappropriate crush. This is a maddening obsession. When I had her alone with me in the copy room, it was wrong, but it felt so goddamn right.
I need a drink.
Or an ass kicking.
Maybe both.
I could visit my father. It’d be a good reminder of why I can’t allow myself to fall down this rabbit hole with Willa. I’ll be just like him. And I cannot be just like him.
Park Mountain Lane is quiet this late afternoon. In the spring, it’s bustling with lawn care workers as they fuss over my father’s immaculate lawn, but since it’s winter, it’s devoid of workers. Even with the flowers and grass dead from the cold, the house is otherwise perfect, custom built to Dad and Jamie’s specifications. You’d never know nearly two decades ago a different house stood—the house I grew up in.
“Miss you, Mom,” I mumble under my breath.
The fire that destroyed our home and took my mother from us also nearly took my brother, Jude.
Don’t think about bad shit.
But that only leaves Willa and I’m trying not to think about her at all. Not her supple bottom strawberry lip as she bites down on it. Not her slightly pink cheeks that flood crimson when my gaze falls on her. Not her long, dark lashes that flutter when I’m near.
I pass Dad’s house and then Hugo’s next. Even after what my father did to me, I still couldn’t escape him. Our family populates Park Mountain Lane from the turn off the main road that runs through Park Mountain, Washington, all the way to Grandpa’s old house at the base of Park Mountain itself. My house is situated between Hugo’s and Grandpa’s, where Jude lives with him. Parked out front is Dad’s golf cart, reminding me no matter how hard I try to avoid him, he’s always there.
Maybe I should take a page from my uncle Theo’s book and move to the other side of the mountain, far away from Dad. Then I wouldn’t have to see him on a daily basis, constantly reminded of how wrong he did me when I was Willa’s age.
Willa.
Fuck.
The last thing I need is to have a stupid conversation with Dad while thinking of Willa’s tight, young body I remember with precise detail from those photos.
So much for that.
At least having to speak to Dad will kill my stupid boner.
I pull into my garage, attempting to keep my anger at bay. If living on the same street wasn’t bad enough, he infects my life as though he has the right to.