Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 152853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 764(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 510(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 764(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 510(@300wpm)
Her curls bounce when she tosses her head and scoffs. "Now I'm undermining you? Would you please get your head out of your ass?"
"Have you forgotten it's my job to protect you?"
"How could I, when you won't stop reminding me?"
"I wouldn't have to keep reminding you if you would stop being this way. I'm here to protect you. You are supposed to tell me about things like this so I know what to look out for."
Knowing her, I expect a shitty response delivered like the brat she is. And at first, it looks like she's all geared up to somehow throw my words back in my face—chest swelling, chin jutting out. But all she does is lower her gaze to the floor again. "Yeah. I know."
This has to be some kind of a trap. She never gives up like that. I wait, watching her, and all I get in return is the silence that spreads between us and fills the room. "If you know," I venture, "why don't you do the smart thing and tell me when something like that happens?"
"I don't know." She lifts her head and shrugs and a barrier falls between us. It's like she's letting go of the shell she wears to protect herself. How do I know she does it? Because I fucking invented the technique. "I really don't know. I mean, yeah, I didn't want you to freak out."
"Don't blame it on me."
"For God's sake, let me finish for once." I hold my tongue and only nod while she clears her throat. "Like I was going to say, I didn't want you to freak out, but... I'm used to handling things by myself. That's just how I am. When I was little, I didn't even want anybody making my breakfast for me. I would pull a chair up to the kitchen cabinet and pull out the cereal and a bowl, and I would get the milk out of the fridge even if it was a full gallon and I could barely carry it. And half the time, I would forget that I shouldn't put the spoon in the bowl unless I buried it under the cereal."
"Or else the milk splashed everywhere?"
"Let me guess. You did the same thing."
"And I would end up with milk all over the place."
"Did you ever think that maybe half the reason we disagree so much is because we're so alike?" Her nose wrinkles again. "As much as I shudder at the thought."
At least she doesn't seem as scared anymore. If she's insulting me, she's in a better mood. "I think you're right about that. We are a lot alike."
"And I'm not complaining," she insists, sitting up straighter. "I'm not trying to give you the whole poor little rich girl bullshit routine. Poor me, Daddy never paid attention, all of that. I don't mean it that way at all. But I don't think it's wrong to say Dad was busy and distracted most of the time. I know he loves me, but he had a lot going on. I got used to handling things independently, and I guess I eventually got into the habit of taking care of everything by myself."
She's right. I never gave it much thought before, because I didn't have the time, but we are more alike than I ever imagined. "I know that feeling. It's how I grew up. There were... a lot of problems."
"Like what?"
"There just were." No, we're not doing that. Not now, not ever.
For once, she's smart enough to let it go. "That's why I never wanted to tell anybody about Kristoff," she whispers. "I figured I could handle it by myself. And I was embarrassed because it meant letting him get away with it for so long. Lying and treating me like I was nothing. It wasn't a matter of wanting it to get that far, but I definitely shouldn't have let that go on as long as I did. I figured I could fight my way out of it. Maybe I could make him change his mind and return to how things were at first. All I had to do was try harder, work harder, hold on tighter."
"There are some problems you can't fix that way."
"Yeah, no kidding. But I don't like the idea of quitting, either."
"It's not quitting when there's no way to win. Sometimes, you have to walk away for your own sake." How many times did I ask myself why my mother never walked away? How many times did I tell her I would take care of her? I would get a job that I would work day and night to support us if that's what it took. But she wouldn't walk away. She didn't want to be a quitter. I guess she figured if she held on long enough, she would be rewarded.