Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
“Ever think your expectations about who Casey is are what’s holding her back? Sounds to me like she’s finally sick of letting people walk all over her.”
Sloane slaps one of the cans from my hand, and I open my eyes to find her hovering over me.
“Before you, she was the sweetest person I’ve ever known. She was better than all of us.” Sloane’s voice cracks slightly. “You stole that from her, Fenn. And I hope it kills you every day.”
Without another word, she marches off, brushing past RJ when he attempts to catch her. She slams the door on her way out.
“Thanks for the backup,” I tell him. I pick up my other can and replace it on my face.
“You deserved it.”
“Still could’ve used the backup.”
“I told you, I’m not getting in the middle of this.” He sinks into his chair. “Off topic—what’s the message you want me to get to Gabe? You never texted me, and my guy wants it tonight.”
Fuck. I’ve been stewing over it for days, and I realized last night what an impossible task this is. What can I say that I’d want RJ to see? Anything I can think of is either an outright admission or would make RJ suspicious, and I know well enough now the consequences of piquing his curiosity.
“On second thought,” I tell him. “I’m good.”
“What, seriously?”
I sit up when the cans on my face have warmed to hand temperature and cease to provide me any relief. “Yeah, don’t worry about it.”
Bottom line is, I can’t risk drawing any more attention. After this latest altercation with Sloane, her pin’s been pulled. It’s only a matter of time before she pops off and annihilates my whole world.
Now that I know the name of Gabe’s military school, I simply need to find a way to get my own message to him. I might not have RJ’s methods of contacting sketchy school guards, but I’ve got cash and that can go a long way.
It’s obvious RJ wants to press the issue, but someone knocks on our door then. When he opens it, there’s a box on the ground.
“Who’s it for?” I ask warily.
RJ brings it inside and sets it on the coffee table while I come to sit on the couch.
“Me. From your dad.” He furrows his brow.
“Oh. Never mind.” I turn on the TV, which still has the video game paused where RJ and Sloane left off.
RJ tears into the cardboard box. “Whoa,” he says a moment later. “Damn.”
“What is it?”
“A memory expansion card. I’d mentioned something to Mom about needing to get one. But, uh, this is way more expensive than what I was looking at.”
“Of course it is.”
What David Bishop lacks in genuine emotion, he makes up for in monetary wealth. Since the wedding to RJ’s mom, he’s been on a hearts-and-minds mission to get on RJ’s good side, as if doing so somehow proves he isn’t a bad father. It’s emotional warfare, and he’s a manipulative asshole.
“I probably need to call him and say thanks, right?”
“For what? Trying to buy your approval? Fuck him.”
RJ still looks hesitant, eyeing the memory card.
“Do we seriously need to have this talk again?” I grumble at my stepbrother. “You’re new to this, so let me lay it out: My dad doesn’t give a shit about you. Or me. Or anyone else. He equates spending money with actual human emotion, so he doesn’t have to, you know, be a person. Don’t fall for it.”
Precisely on cue, my phone buzzes.
I throw it at RJ because I know David will just keep calling, and eventually RJ will wrestle the phone from me. I don’t have the energy for it tonight.
“Fenn?” my dad says when RJ puts him on speaker.
“Yes, RJ got the thing. He’s very impressed.” I pick up a controller and start playing RJ’s guy in the game. “Tell the person at Best Buy they did a good job.”
“Oh, excellent. Hope it’s what he needed.”
“Yeah,” RJ pipes up. “Thanks, David. It’s perfect.”
Christ, he’s embarrassing.
“Fenn, can we talk a minute?” Dad says.
“Busy.”
RJ rips the controller out of my hand and replaces it with the phone. He’s such a pain in the ass.
“Yeah, what?” I ask, taking the phone off speaker and walking to my bed to sit down.
“How are you?” Dad’s voice takes on a nervous note, as if he expects me to lash out at any second. “I wanted to check in and see how things are going.”
“Sure.” I chuckle. “What’s this really about?”
“I’m interested,” he insists defensively. “I want to know how you’re doing.”
“Why, is Michelle there? Yes, Dad, everything’s swell. We’re both having the best time ever.”
He doesn’t rise to my sarcasm, which is somehow worse, and instead proceeds right along. “Listen, I wanted to mention again about us coming up to see you boys at school soon. Is there a day of the week that’s best for you? If you want to send me your schedule—”