Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 150546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 753(@200wpm)___ 602(@250wpm)___ 502(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 150546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 753(@200wpm)___ 602(@250wpm)___ 502(@300wpm)
There’s a faint knock, and then my bedroom door swings open, but I don’t move. It’ll be someone. Hopefully Evie. Wouldn’t mind seeing that new ride.
Running my hand over my face, I catch Mom in the mirror, her eyes moving around the room. The knife I used that night still lays on the floor, around the mess and empty bottles of alcohol.
Shit. Maybe I’m not doing as good as I’d just thought.
I feel a pang of emptiness in the pit of my gut.
She steps farther into my bedroom, making her way to the other side and spreading the curtains wide until the sun blinds my retinas.
“Shit, Mom. Really?” I shade my eyes from the sun before turning on the tap and wetting my toothbrush. I pause when my eyes land on the half-empty bottle of bourbon in the washing basket, and the three lines of coke that blend with the porcelain.
Mom leans against the modern archway that separates the bathroom and my room. She looks down at the counter, before finding my eyes in the mirror again. “Halen is throwing a party tonight. You should go. It’s their final one before they move into the old frat house.”
Doubtful. About the me going to a party, and her living anywhere that isn’t with me part.
“War.” Mom’s voice is closer. She rests her hand on my arm with the kind of warmth only a mother can offer.
I lean over and spit out the toothpaste, grabbing at a towel to wipe my mouth. I dip down and kiss her on the forehead. “I’m okay now, Mom.”
I could have blacked out for those two weeks and I still would have woken up today feeling the same way that I did the minute I got off that chopper two weeks ago. But through these torturous days, I’ve realized something that I should have before, had I not been caught up in the emotions of the night.
I blow out a breath. “It’ll never happen again.” My jaw hardens. “To any of our girls.”
There’s a bang on the door, pulling me from Mom’s gaze.
“This is me knocking!”
My heart beats against my ribs. Fuck. Shit. I kind of thought I’d have a few hours to sort out my hundredth apology.
Halen’s body fills the bathroom, and I forget how to breathe. Mom disappears out of sight, and Halen takes her place.
“War. Look at me, dammit.” Fuck. I don’t want her to know that I’ve been a major fuckup and let my feelings eat me for the first time.
My eyes peel open, and a hiss escapes my teeth when her fingers wrap around my chin, forcing me to look down at her.
“I gave you two weeks. I had no idea how you were feeling that night until I noticed you were gone when the mothers and fathers came back. I tried to chase you, but one of the dads caught me and reminded me that it wasn’t about me. I was upset with myself that I had to be reminded, that I didn’t see it in your eyes that night. The torment of guilt that I never wanted you to feel, and how you’ve always protected me, War—”
I try to force myself out of her grip when those words leave her mouth, but she’s stronger, pulling me back into her. Well, fuck. If it isn’t mine.
“—and how you feel.” She rests the palm of her hand over my heart, her eyes falling to the new ink on my neck. Her eyes widen to a veil of glass. “How you always feel to such an intensity that it consumes you.” She lifts her other hand and her fingertip skims the fresh ink. “Rage, jealousy, anger, love, pain.” She swallows roughly and I trace the way her throat contracts before her eyes collide with mine. “Guilt. Don’t ever try to hide your feelings from me again.”
A tear glides over her cheek and I bend own, catching it with my tongue.
“Or I’ll shoot you.” It’s a promise, not a threat. For the first time in two weeks, the corner of my mouth curves up.
My arm snakes around her back as my hands land on her ass, lifting her up onto the counter. “Fuck.” I rest my forehead on hers. “I’m sorry, baby.”
I feel her relax in my arms. My heart twists against the cavity of my chest as my lips skim hers. “I’m both the worst part of myself and the best when I’m with you.”
She kisses me gently. “And I love them both the same. Even if one side thinks I can’t handle the intensity of its love.”
My hand finds the back of her neck, my thumb circling the tender flesh there.
I bite back a laugh and it rustles over the ghost of kisses. “There isn’t a version of me that has ever existed where I didn’t fucking love you. This—” My other hand trails up her back, burying into the nest of her dark chocolate curls. “—was never about love. This was about me dealing with my own guilt while not wanting it to touch you.”