Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 128(@200wpm)___ 102(@250wpm)___ 85(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 128(@200wpm)___ 102(@250wpm)___ 85(@300wpm)
I force myself to nod. “Be careful,” I whisper. “And thank you.”
After a long moment of scrutinizing me, he leans in and kisses my forehead. “It’s an honor, Allie.”
It’s a struggle not to call him back when he climbs onto the bike and brings the engine to life. It’s agonizing to sit there, unmoving, and let him drive away. Why does it feel final when I haven’t even made up my mind? Keep Moore in my life or start over completely fresh? Build a new life, totally on my own or give in to the love flooding me, filling every crack inside of my heart?
Flare gun in hand, I go back inside. Make myself breakfast, but I can’t eat a single bite, because my stomach is too anxious. I do my hair and makeup. Pace. I go for a walk down to the lake and back, twice, noticing absently how everything looks so different in the daylight. I want to know my mind clearly by the time Moore returns from the school. Do I thank him and say goodbye? Or…what is my other option? Stay at this cabin with him forever?
The roar of an engine breaks into my thoughts and I stand so quickly, my head swims. I jog toward the door, only to slow when the odd chugging registers. That’s not a motorcycle engine. Nothing about the sound is familiar. Holding the flare gun to my chest, I tiptoe to the closest window and peek out, frowning when I see my guidance counselor climb out of the car. Moore’s aunt.
My heart sinks into my stomach.
My body starts to quake ominously.
Where is Moore?
What is happening?
“Allie James?” calls Moore’s aunt cautiously from the bottom of the cabin steps. “I have your paperwork here. I’m just dropping it off, along with—”
I throw open the door, causing her to jump back.
“Miss James.” She flattens the folder to her breast. “You scared me.”
“Why are you here?” My words are tripping over themselves, the terrible sensation in my stomach beginning to creep higher, into my throat. “Where is Moore? My father…my father didn’t—”
“Moore is fine,” she says calmingly. “He explained some of the situation to me and…” She winces. “I can see from the bruise on your face that he wasn’t exaggerating. I’m sorry you didn’t feel like you could come to me, sweetie. I’m sorry about it all.”
For some reason, having a woman’s sympathy opens a floodgate of feeling. Maybe it has been dammed up inside of me since my mother left. Tears leak from my eyes, trickling into the corners of my mouth.
“I’m very happy to inform you that you were accepted to all of the colleges you applied to. And I’ve got the loan applications here for all of them.”
Accepted. To all of the colleges.
Relief and pride trickle in my bloodstream. I want to lie down and cry. Because I accomplished what I set out to do. Because I miss Moore. So many reasons. But right now, I need answers. “Why didn’t Moore come back himself?”
When she hedges, my knees get so weak, I have to sit down on the top step.
“I don’t know, sweetie,” says the guidance counselor, slowly approaching until she can sit down next to me. She settles the folder in my lap, then lays a thick white envelope down on top of it, a stack of hundred-dollar bills spilling out just slightly. “He sold his bike this morning—this is the money from the sale. Moore said you would need the cash. He said letting you go is the right thing to do.”
“No.” I try to stand and can’t, my legs refusing to support me. There has to be three thousand dollars in that envelope. “No…no.”
“Why don’t we focus on the schools you have to choose from?”
My whole body is shaking. “But…”
I need him.
Don’t I?
I’m too overwrought to know up from down. I’m in love with Moore. I’ve been in love with him for so long, the feeling has become a part of me. I don’t know who I am without it. And maybe that’s the problem. I need to know who I am when I’m not living in fear. Hiding from a monstrous father. Ignoring the boy I love so he won’t become a target, too. Living to get by.
I need to know I love Moore because he’s good for me.
Last night, the final time we made love, I asked him to bully me. I enjoyed it. It excited me the most out of everything we’ve done—and that’s saying a lot, because the last two days have been non-stop pleasure. But my hunger for that treatment scared me a little. Made me wonder if I’m seeking out something familiar.
Something bad.
Something that isn’t good for me.
I want to go find him right now. Throw myself into his arms and beg him to come with me to wherever I land, but if I do…I’ll never be able to think clearly. To define myself and what I want, what I need. I’m so tangled up in the strife of the last several years, my head is like a shaken snow globe. I have to let it settle. I have to take a deep breath and let the path in front of me unfold.