Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 67755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
“So you told your granny, and she convinced you that the money was a good thing. She hatched the plan to find me?”
“She did. Though we heavily debated why my dad was still trying to ruin my life from the grave. He never mentioned it to me when I was younger. I guess he figured he would wait ten years, and then he’d have your dad’s fortune anyway, so it really wasn’t important that he stick to the truce. Right around that time, that’s when things got rocky. I remember our life being really sour. My dad was always on edge and so paranoid that someone was going to take his empire. I remember him screaming at his men and doing…doing things that I don’t want to remember to enforce his position. He wasn’t as entrenched as he thought, and when his rivals came for him, he went down like any other man. He wasn’t above death like he thought he was.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what that was like.”
“I try and block it out, for the most part. Not just that night but those years. I’ve done a lot of online therapy. Granny insisted on it. Knowing her and my brothers and having a purpose—this thing we’ve created that ties us together—has really helped. I still feel…Never mind.” He shakes his head.
I want to ask what he still feels because his face looks…well, just a tad bit wrecked, and that hits me hard. It’s not just vulnerability. It’s something that goes so much deeper than that. I have to remember that I was lucky. I was lucky to have been adopted, to have been taken away and spared the kind of life that Alden knew for the first half of his—all of his formative years. He didn’t feel like he had a family. He had a father who used him like a soldier, who probably physically hurt him, and who forced him to witness unspeakable acts of violence, maybe even torture and murder. Alden, as a kid, had to survive on the streets. His body was broken from leaping out that window to spare his life, but he had to have been afraid. Cold. Alone. Afraid. Sick. In pain. It’s like all those things that happened to him have been channeled into one singular painful expression, and that’s what I can see on his face now.
I know he doesn’t want me to be privy to that, and honestly, it seems too personal to be standing here like this in this small space, never mind that he’s just got a towel on, and it’s all that’s keeping him from being totally naked. I’m starting to get vibes about destiny and starting to truly feel the whole promised-in-the-cradle thing, and it’s counter-productive to what I need to do, which is sign some paperwork, say a few words, and leave in order to keep myself and my family safe.
And my friends, too. All of my friends.
Will I ever see any of them again?
I shake myself, clamping down hard on the fear, pain, and panic that want to start welling up within me when I think about leaving my old life and never looking back.
“Honestly, when I read it, I wanted to light it on fire,” Alden rasps quietly, his voice so raw that I can tell it’s coming from a deep, dark pit inside him. “I told her we should take it out to the backyard, build a fire with it, and roast hot dogs.”
“Hot dogs?” I gasp. I wasn’t expecting the humor, but I very much appreciate his attempt to lighten the dark, gloomy mood taking up space in the bathroom with us. “You like hot dogs?”
“I love hot dogs.” Alden looks more recovered now. At least his eyes are dancing with that same light they usually have. I see him in a different way now, and it makes my stomach flutter like a flurry of furry beings trapped in my belly. “What do you like, Azalea? I’ve never asked you. I mean, I didn’t really have time, but I want to know.”
“Like a huge list?”
“Yes, A huge list.”
“Uhhh, well, I don’t like Azaleas that much. They’re an okay flower, but my mom just liked the name. She picked it out without even knowing it was a flower at all.” He smiles at that, and I want to keep going. I want to keep seeing his smile. I want to be the reason for that smile, and oh my god, no, I can’t be thinking things like that. It’s okay to want someone to be happy, and it’s okay to get a rush from making people laugh because, yes, it’s normal that it feels good, but this is something more. It’s a smidge beyond normal when I can’t afford to be giving smidges away.