Total pages in book: 235
Estimated words: 227851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1139(@200wpm)___ 911(@250wpm)___ 760(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 227851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1139(@200wpm)___ 911(@250wpm)___ 760(@300wpm)
I don’t stop.
Despite hearing my mum calling me.
I’m done with this life.
The hurt, pain, regret, guilt.
Done.
* * *
Ring, ring, ring.
I blink my eyes open and stare at the ceiling for a few moments, trying to come round. Trying to push the dreams away. “Fucking hell,” I whisper, swiping a palm down my rough cheek as I lift my arse off the bed. I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone, grimacing at the dozens of missed calls. John, Sam, Drew. Four voicemails. I listen to John asking where the hell I am. I listen to Sam ask me why the fuck Ava’s at Kate’s. I listen to Drew demand I call him.
And then my sister’s voice comes down the line, catching me off guard. “Hey,” she says tentatively, as every muscle I possess hardens. “I hope you listen to this.” My mind demands I cut the message off. I don’t. “We’re leaving for Seville at the end of the week,” she goes on. “I’d so love it if you would come. Dad’s not been great lately, and I worry you’ll regret it if you don’t make amends. They’re getting old, Jesse. Just . . . think about it. I love you.”
I push myself up and sit on the edge of the bed, staring down at my phone, my thumbs moving instinctively.
I love you too. I’m sorry I can’t be there, but send me pictures, okay?
I drop my mobile on the sheets without clicking send, burying my head in my hands. I can’t go to a place where people are waiting to remind me of all my wrongs. I’m too busy trying to fix the fuck-ups in my present. Amalie is stuck in the middle. She didn’t ask for any of this. She’s lost two brothers, and through my own misery and self-loathing, I somehow missed that along the way. So, for the first time in years, I show Amalie the love she absolutely deserves.
I snatch my phone up and click send while holding my breath, exhaling as I rise, feeling hot. I shrug out of my shirt and head downstairs, hovering over Ava’s name, ready to dial her. But I refrain, typing out a message.
Good night. I miss you.
But I don’t send it. I said I’ll do anything. So space it is.
I sigh, rounding the corner into the kitchen.
And walk right into something. I jump back on a crash of my heart. “Fuck!”
John pulls his shades down his nose and looks over them at me, his eyes traveling up and down my half-naked body. “Evening.”
“What are you doing here?” I snap defensively.
“Cathy was worried.”
“I’m fine.”
“Where’s Ava?”
“In bed.”
“Liar,” Sam says, appearing behind him. “I just drove past Kate’s and saw her letting herself in. What’s going on?”
“And I thought I was the stalker around here,” I grumble, pushing past them. “Driving past Kate’s?”
Sam tosses me a dark look as I flick the coffee machine on, then off again when I register the time. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“There you are,” Drew says, stopping at the door and taking in the kitchen. “Where’s Ava?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” I look to the heavens for help, knowing I’m asking in vain. They’re all here, they know Ava’s not—thanks, Sam—and I know I’ve got some explaining to do. “She left me, okay?” I throw the words out and watch as each and every one of them step back, alarmed. “She walked out on me, and I don’t know if I can convince her to come back.” I go to the fridge and yank it open, snatching a jar of Sun-Pat off the shelf. I turn and try to unscrew the lid, gritting my teeth, straining to move it. “And where the fuck did you disappear to on Saturday?” I bark at Drew.
“Home.”
“Sorry, wasn’t my wedding day exciting enough for you?” I strain harder, feeling the veins in my temple bulging. Give me my peanut butter!
Drew rolls his eyes, coming at me. “Shut up bitching.” He takes the jar and pops it open with ease, handing it over on a sarcastic smile.
I snarl and swipe it back, tossing the lid on the counter and ramming a finger in. “Now you all know I’m alive, you can fuck off.” I shove my finger in my mouth, thinking John looks like he wants to take this jar and put it somewhere painful. Sideways.
“Sit down,” he grunts, taking off his shades.
“Oh, you’re in for it now.” Drew takes a front-row seat and joins his hands on the marble. “I’ve sacrificed a night of pleasure and pain for this, big man, so make it messy.”
“It’s a big enough mess without anyone else’s help,” I say, dropping to a stool and casting my vice aside. It didn’t even take the edge off my anxiety. Can’t stomach Cathy’s lasagna. “I’ve fucked up.” I drop my head in my hands.