Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 80689 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80689 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
“That’s why I call Ryan a killer. He knows he’s the reason our brother and Father are dead, and it haunts him. He can’t take back the consequences of his actions. He may show you his softer side, but there’s something truly wicked in Ryan’s heart. Evil is the only word that can describe it.”
I’m not naive enough to believe it’s the truth, but could any part of it be true?
I’ve sensed guilt when Ryan discusses what happened in the past, but is this the pain Ryan carries when he speaks about Kieran and his father?
“That’s why I chose you,” he adds. “Ryan needs to be reminded of his sins. He needs to face the darkness within him that did that to our brother. To Father. To me. He doesn’t get to continue walking these halls like nothing ever happened, keeping up Hawthorne Heights like he hasn’t already destroyed her heart.”
As much as I want to tell myself this is all a malicious lie, it all adds up.
Why Simon’s so fucking angry with his brother.
The emotion Kieran brings up in Ryan.
The reason Simon would want a look-alike to torture his twin.
But even if part of this is true, I refuse to take Simon’s word for anything. Not until I know Ryan’s side.
25
RYAN
“Hi, Charity, it’s good to see you again,” I say as Jonas turns his phone toward me.
“Hi, Ryan.” In her unicorn bandanna, she smiles, though I can tell she’s struggling to maintain it more than in previous conversations. Her eyelids drop for longer than they should for a blink, but she opens them as if she’s just reminded herself she needed to stay awake.
“How are you?” I ask. “Jonas told me you came down with the flu.”
“Yes,” she says before pushing out a wet cough. “It’s been a nightmare. I just wish we could have kept going with the treatment.”
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“It’s fine. Dr. Blaire says we just need to get me to recover, and then we’ll start the next round.” She hacks up a few more coughs. “Sorry, just feels like if I get another few coughs out, it’ll be clear, but it never is. I’m fine, though.”
I can tell by how quickly she says it that it’s for Jonas’s benefit.
“Are you still chatting with that friend you made?” I ask. “What was his name? Ahmed?”
Her smile perks up. “Yes, before I got sick, the doctors scheduled us so we could spend more time together. We’d go to the viewing room for the aviary and talk. Now we can’t even do that, but we’ll text, and he’s written me some notes.”
“Notes? Oh really?”
“It’s nothing,” she says with an eye roll, then adds, “Okay, maybe not nothing, but shut up.”
Jonas and I share a laugh. As she continues chatting with us about her day, Jonas is right beside me, hanging on every word. Seeing how much he cares about his sister, how much she adores him, only makes me that much more attracted to him. And I foolishly let myself imagine a world where Charity is fine and we’re all together.
“It’s just hard since they’ll only let Aunt Amy see me a few times a day now. I miss her. And I miss you, Jonas. I know I can’t see anyone right now, but please tell me you’ll come visit when I get better.”
“I…um…”
I can feel he wants to tell her he will with every fiber of his being, and if it wasn’t for Simon, it wouldn’t be an issue.
“You know I have to see this through until September, which is right around the corner, but as soon as I’m done, I’ll be right there, right by your side.”
Charity’s frown says it all. She wants her brother to be there with her. Of course she does.
He chats with her some more before calling his aunt.
Afterward, we have another picnic planned in the woods, so we head to my place among the briars, making out before we even unpack the food. It shouldn’t mean so much to me. We mess around every night, but there’s something different about when we’re alone—truly alone.
Jonas doesn’t hold back either, so I suspect he feels the same.
“My lips are going numb,” I whisper before going back for another.
It’s the sort of kiss that helps me lose track of time, of where we are. Sometimes, even who the hell we are.
When I finally pull away, I lie alongside him, resting one arm on him, the other at his side as I gaze down at his beautiful face, his head resting on our picnic blanket. I lean down and nibble at his chin, which makes him laugh before I pull back and look down at his smile. This feeling—the excitement, the friskiness—I’m greedy for it because I know that as much fun as it is being his boyfriend, there’s not much time left before this must end. As he pointed out earlier, we’re getting so close to September.