Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 84072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Then he surprises me, something else he’s good at. “Somebody has to protect her.” There’s something in his voice that makes me ache inside. He’s fierce. Determined. For once, I can actually believe he feels something real. There’s more to him than anger and bitterness. He wants to keep her safe from the ugly things in life. One of those things is still shouting drunkenly to himself downstairs.
“Why do you hate it when I call you little bird?” Briggs surprises me with his question.
“What makes you think I hate it?” I ask innocently.
“I can see it in your eyes, or at least I used to,” he admits. “It doesn't seem to bother you much anymore.”
“It reminded me of someone else who used to call me that once,” I say, hoping this answer will satisfy him. Of course it doesn't.
“Who was it?”
I think about lying to him, but stop myself. I have no reason to lie to him. I’ve never talked about this with anyone other than my mom, who, of course, didn't believe me. And no one else ever bothered to ask, so I tell him the truth. “A guy my mom dated when I was younger,” I explain, wishing that he would stop asking about this.
“Why did you hate him?”
“I don’t want to talk about this,” I say sternly, feeling dread sneaking up as I’m forced to recall Steven and the times he touched me. Bile threatens to rise in my throat, and I shove the memories back down.
“What did he do to you?” Briggs goes tense beside me.
“Can you please drop it?” I beg, and to my surprise, he does.
“Fine, you don’t have to tell me tonight, but this conversation isn’t over.”
I sigh in relief. Only now realizing how fast my heart is beating. I lie there until my pulse returns to normal and my breathing calms down.
“Do you want me to stop calling you little bird?” Briggs whispers after a while, taking me by surprise.
I don’t have to think about my answer long. “Like you said, it used to bother me, but you kind of replaced his memory with you. I don’t think about him anymore.”
“Good,” Briggs says softly, and I let my mind drift back to what happened tonight for a while.
I probably shouldn’t do it, but he did sort of save my life tonight. Granted, I wouldn’t have been in danger if it wasn’t for him dragging me to that bizarre party, but I’m willing to overlook that for the moment. I finally see what’s been in front of me all this time. He puts up a good front, but he’s hurting. He has pain of his own. And he loves Tia with his whole heart.
Maybe that’s why it makes sense to slide over a little in the bed. To touch a hand to his shoulder and wait for him to lift his arm, making room for me to snuggle next to him. His arm drapes over me, pulling me close, neither of us saying a word.
Or maybe he does speak, but I’m too busy falling into a deep sleep to notice.
24
BRIGGS
At first, I don’t know why I can’t roll over. There’s something weighing me down.
When I open my eyes, I realize what it is. Wren is unconscious, plastered to my side with an arm thrown over my chest and her leg draped over mine. She’s breathing softly, and I have to wonder what she’s dreaming about. Is it something good? Does she escape from the shit in her life while she’s asleep, maybe dreaming about something better?
There’s one thing I have to admit as I carefully pry her off me: it’s actually kind of nice, waking up with somebody. Even if she is still asleep. Her brown locks fan across the pillow and frame her face, and there’s a second where I can see myself leaning down to kiss her.
I must still be half asleep. Shaking my head at myself, I remember Tia and waste no time getting out of bed. Is she still feverish? If she is, what do I do? It’s been a few hours since I gave her the medicine. She won’t be due for another dose until morning. All I can do is cross my fingers while pulling on a pair of pajama pants, then sneaking out of the room before Wren wakes up.
My heart is in my throat as I creep into Tia’s room. She’s just the way I left her, fast asleep. I touch the back of my hand to her forehead and release a sigh of relief. Her skin is cool now. Thank God. I don’t normally pray, but this is worth offering up a little gratitude.
Closing my eyes, I release a shaky breath. It’s like another crisis was averted—I don’t know how I would’ve handled it if she was still sick. It’s already bad enough having to bring Wren here, and Dad being the way he is. What would happen if I announced to him we were taking her to an emergency clinic? All hell would break loose.