Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 137131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
A soft summer breeze blows through the trees. Aside from the creaking branches, it helps everything feel a little less stifling.
I should keep moving with the wind literally at my back.
“Don’t give up. Not now. Not ever,” I whisper.
Though maybe I should rest just a few more seconds to keep up my strength.
Also, now that I’m fed, I’m impossibly tired.
We’re talking bone-deep exhaustion that could send me smacking into a tree. I’m not sure I’d even notice.
I slouch down against another huge tree trunk, my feet screaming at me.
Okay, okay. Just a minute or two, then we’re moving again.
Colt would love this cool secret nest.
Archer would shake his head and warn me how dangerous it is.
The thought drops in my head like a pebble on a lake. Every time I imagine Archer and Colt, my heart twists tighter.
If they could see this place, I bet Colt would cook up a whole new biology project. Archer would hold his son back from the bees, and I’d loan Colt a bee suit to keep him safe, and then we’d hang back, holding hands while the teenager explored to his heart’s content.
Oh, that hurts.
There’s no running away from them, is there?
I can’t just zoom in and out of their lives like a lost little bee without expecting to leave a trace.
If Archer was here, you’d ask him to put a new cabin deeper in the woods, and he’d tease you for wanting him to build this deep in the forest just so you could live next to the bees.
Despite everything, a tiny smile curls my lips.
I can just imagine him, all gruff words and shining blue eyes—outwardly grumpy but really just a softie. Indulgent and sweet.
Big daddy perfection to the end.
I miss him.
I miss everything—except for the gigantic tangled mess of my family’s drama.
The mess I caused.
The smile slips off my face.
The world resumes throbbing again, my vision wavering.
I’m hugging my shoulders.
It’s weird because it’s definitely not that cold tonight.
Yet somehow, I’m shivering.
I wish I had a kiss with a bad-tempered man to warm me up.
I would not mind it if he used that mouth.
He knows what he’s doing with his tongue, and I can almost feel it now, the searing, sharp heat flowing through me. I let my head roll back.
This is what I want, what I need.
But I can’t have it.
Reality picks me up and hurls me back down.
I can’t have it because I left, and that was the right thing to do. It had to be.
If only good morals didn’t hurt so effing much.
Every time I blink, it’s like the world reassembles itself in a slightly different way.
My eyes dart around. I think I hear voices, but it’s just the trees whispering, the leaves shaking and murmuring with the wind.
Win-nie, they say.
Winnie!
I start laughing. Trees don’t talk and they certainly don’t call your name.
Even if they could, I’m not important enough for them to know me. They don’t care.
It’s a little sad.
Archer cares—or at least he did.
The little family I had, the one who adopted me—and I know I’m stretching the truth but God I don’t care—they cared plenty.
I frown because I keep pinging on the ugly truth.
I ran away from them.
I didn’t even wait for an adult conversation.
Some coping mechanism.
I’m sure Lyssie will dig me up and kill me again once she finds out how dumb all this is.
God, I’m a mess.
Maybe it’s the fever giving me these teeth-chattering chills. Can some bad algae from a tainted stream poison your brain, too?
I go to look it up, but remember my phone’s dead. My hand falls uselessly against the ground.
No phone.
No hope.
Right.
Heat pricks along my limbs and sweat seals my clothes to my neck. I’m shivering with the heat, and it’s almost impossible to string a single coherent thought together.
The only thing that stands out in my delirious mind is Archer Rory.
I miss him so much I can almost see him standing in front of me.
And I must be terminally sick because my hallucinations look real enough to touch when he appears in front of me like a guardian angel.
Is this how it works?
Do you get to see your favorite people before you die? Even if they’re still alive?
“Hey, Archer.” I grin up at him, still tasting sticky honey on my lips.
He answers by sweeping me up in his arms and flinging me over his shoulder.
Don’t pinch me.
If this beautiful delusion is my grand finale before the lights go out, I never want to know when the fireworks end.
I never want to wake up when he holds me, cradling me, his eyes so bright with love and concern.
“Winnie, stay with me. I love you,” he whispers.
Love you too. I try to mouth back those three reckless words.
But I think I’m too far gone.
I pass out smiling, ready for the great beyond.