Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 59464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
“I’m so sorry, Jonah. I had no idea.”
“Exactly what I’m saying. You’ve got to go to Logan and get this guy behind bars, man. You don’t know who else he could be doing this to. You don’t know who will look at you and say, ‘man, if he can do it—if he can survive that and keep going, I can, too’.”
I sit back, his words hitting me hard.
“I never thought of it that way.”
“Look, man. No one who judges you over this is worth a shit as a human being. You’re better off without them. But I don’t think you know how many people will respect and admire you for coming forward.”
“Even after all this time?”
“Absolutely.”
I nod. “I think you’re right. I want to talk it over with Lindy, but…I think you’re right.”
“Will you stay and hang out? Watch a movie or something?”
“Sure, I can stay for a little while.”
I text Lindy to make plans for later, still feeling floored after my talk with Jonah. But I’m also…hopeful. I’ve never felt a shred of hope when it comes to Bryan, until right now.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Lindy
Dad peeks out the front curtains and gives me a thumbs-up.
“Looks like even those peckerhead photographers spend Turkey Day with their families,” he says.
I breathe a sigh of relief. It’s truly a holiday, then. A break from everything. For the past three weeks, I haven’t been able to leave my house without being photographed.
Victor’s in the same situation, only it’s not so foreign to him. If I go to his place, photographers follow me the entire way, and within minutes of me going inside, local sports blogs show photos of me walking inside for a “romantic rendezvous”.
They also know when I leave, because they’re waiting outside. One blog documented my “walk of shame”, at 4 am, which was really just me leaving a lot later than planned because we both fell asleep watching a movie.
Victor thinks it’s funny. He’s got used to the spotlight shining brightly on him when he was dating Kristen Moore. I’m more comfortable about it than I was when it first started. The best part about it is that Jonah said the photographers aren’t following him anymore. If we can spare him that as he grieves Lily, it’s worth it.
As I take our turkey out of the oven and baste it, I think about him. It’s his first Thanksgiving without her. He’s spending it with his family, and I know it’ll be a hard day for him.
Most of us don’t know which Thanksgiving will be our last. Victor’s coming over to spend the day with me and my dad, and I’m excited we all get to be together. Dad and I have always made a full Thanksgiving meal, even though it was just the two of us.
“That bird’s looking fantastic,” Dad says as he passes through the kitchen.
“Thanks. I hope it’s not dry.”
“If it is, we can just dump some gravy on it.”
There’s a knock on the front door and my stomach flutters in response. Dad answers it as I put the turkey back in the oven.
Victor and my dad do the customary guy greetings—loud and accompanied by back clapping hugs, and then Victor and I meet up in the living room as he’s making his way back to the kitchen, a big paper bag in one arm. He gives me a warm smile.
“Happy Thanksgiving, babe,” he says, kissing me.
It’s short and sweet—the only kind of kiss he’s willing to give me in front of my dad.
“Happy Thanksgiving,” I say, still unable to believe he’s actually here in my house, and he’s all mine.
We all walk into the kitchen and Victor sets his bag on our small, round kitchen table. He pulls a bouquet of yellow, orange and red flowers out and passes them to me.
“Thank you.”
He unloads more—a giant summer sausage, a cheese tray, a container of potato salad from the deli, two bottles of wine and…
“Oh my God.” I flush the darkest shade of red when he unpacks a giant container of lube.
My dad’s eyes widen and I swear I see Victor’s murder plotted in them from start to finish in a matter of two seconds.
Victor puts his hands up in surrender. “There were photographers following me. I figured I’d give ‘em something juicy since they’re working a holiday.”
Dad bursts out laughing. “Hell yeah. Let ‘em put pictures of that on the Internet.”
They share a good laugh over it. I still want to die. Men have the weirdest sense of humor.
“Between the lube and the summer sausage, I’ll never hear the end of this from my neighbors,” I grumble.
Victor gets another good laugh out of that. “I swear I only bought the sausage for us to eat.”
“I told you not to bring food. I’m making tons.”
“I couldn’t show up empty-handed.”
“Eh, it’ll all get eaten,” Dad says. “Victor, can I get you a beer?”