Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 53154 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 266(@200wpm)___ 213(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53154 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 266(@200wpm)___ 213(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
“We don’t do business with junkies,” he continues, even though the conversation seems to veer off course. “Junkies are unpredictable and can’t be trusted in business. But sometimes, in our work, the ones on the sidelines end up getting messed up along the way. Mom was a casualty. She couldn’t deal with the life without the help of drugs. The addiction grew until it killed her.”
He says it flatly, without any emotion. It’s as though he’s somehow put up a stone wall around this section of his life, not allowing the memories to penetrate his emotions.
It’s like Drex is an island no one can touch, even if he’s right in front of you.
“I’m sorry,” I say softly, resuming my strokes through his hair.
He leans into my touch, and a small, peaceful breath leaves his lips.
“What about your sister?” he asks. “Marks worked for us for a while, and I never knew he had a family. I also didn’t know he had a daughter who died.”
I’m not detached from my emotions the way he is, so the mention of Isabelle is like a knife slicing through me. My chest gets heavy, and the tears teeter on the edge. I fight hard to answer him without crying.
“I was an uh-oh child,” I tell him, which causes his eyebrows to arch. Shrugging, I continue. “Mom got pregnant with me when she was sixteen. Dad was eighteen. They got married immediately, because, well, they were young and thought that’s what you had to do.”
It’s not what he asked, but he lies under me, patiently waiting for me to elaborate. My hand slides down from his hair, and I start tracing the hard lines of his chest, moving down the flow of his golden tanned abs and back up again.
“It was rough on them. But they survived the struggle. Mom thought it made them stronger, but I think my dad just got weaker. My sister was the next uh-oh. The doctors had told my mother that it’d be almost impossible for her to get pregnant again. They were wrong. She was pregnant within two months of getting off her birth control.”
I roll my eyes. “Then later she had twins. So, needless to say, she can still get pregnant despite the fact it shouldn’t be possible.”
He shifts, sliding his hands down my waist to start drawing his own sets of lines.
“Isabelle wasn’t like me. She was wild, carefree, and didn’t give a damn about what the world thought of her. She was two years younger than me. She had this ability to outshine everyone and everything when she was around.”
Sighing, I lean back down, resting my head in the crook of his neck. I feel his lips on my forehead, and I snuggle into him even more. The day Isabelle died is the day I stopped smiling… until I met Drex. It’s also the day I stopped looking for rainbows in a sky full of nothing but dark clouds.
“One night she got busted at a frat party. She’d wanted me to go with her, but I’d told her I had studying to do. I’ll never forget how annoyed she was with me that night.
“My parents went to pick her up. I stayed at home with the twins like the good daughter I always tried to be. Mom and Dad were arguing with her about what she’d done, telling her that they’d had enough. Dad never saw the other car in his lane until it was too late. He tried to jerk out of the way, but it only caused most of the impact to hit the front corner where my mother was in the passenger seat.”
I breathe him in, finding comfort in his scent, before managing to finish.
“It was quick, according to the report. Mom suffered more damage, and barely survived. She still has a limp. My dad didn’t suffer any damage at all. Isabelle wasn’t wearing her seatbelt, and it threw her from the back seat and out the front windshield. Oddly, she barely had a scratch on her, but her neck was broken.”
He holds me tighter, and I absorb the comfort. He kisses my head again, and I thread our fingers together while staring at the connection. It feels good to talk about it without being a sobbing mess.
“So Ben started dating you around the time your sister was killed?” he asks.
“About six months before the accident—give or take. Needless to say, he had to be patient after that. It was pretty much a non-existent relationship for a while, then I struggled to find the ability to stay with him after that. I felt like I owed him for being there for me though.”
“Do you feel like you have to be here with me?” he asks, sounding adorably vulnerable at the moment.
“No,” I answer honestly, looking up at him, then remember what is really going on. “Well, yes, considering the circumstances, but I also want to be here.”