Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91864 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91864 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
“Are you being serious or trying to romantic comedy us even more?” He shifted and I added, “Also, if you don’t stop moving, we won’t go anywhere because I’ll be the one pinning you to this bed.”
“Don’t tempt me,” he replied and then, “I’m being serious. I love that shit. My brother and I used to go all the time.”
I opened my mouth, unsure what would come out and said, “Okay…fine. It’s not like I have anything else going on tonight. And you did play air hockey for me.”
Sean got off me, grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet. “Do you have a letterman’s jacket? I should probably wear it.” And then we both laughed entirely too hard for what he’d just said.
Hours later, as we sat through the movies, Sean repeating nearly every line, I realized it was one of the most fun nights I’d had in a long time—maybe ever.
18
Sean
I walked alongside Hollywood, passing Wreckage.
It was dark out, the streetlights illuminating the sidewalk. A loud sound caught my attention, and I turned to the alley beside Wreckage. In the lot behind the building on the other side of the alley, a guy in a hoodie held a gun to Ethan, who had his arms in the air.
The guy in the hoodie shouted at him. I had to help; that was all I knew. But as soon as I tried to move my feet, I realized they were stuck in place.
I glanced down, and despite my best efforts at forcing my legs to move, I couldn’t.
A shot echoed through the air, and I looked back up quickly, seeing Ethan fall to the asphalt before the guy in the hoodie took off.
My limbs finally allowed me to move, and I raced through the alley, into the lot. As I reached Ethan, I dropped onto my knees beside him.
When I looked down at him, I saw that it wasn’t Ethan—it was Brady, my brother.
The switch made it clear to me that I was having a nightmare, nothing more.
I’d had so many in my life that it was easy for me to recognize it for what it was: my mind’s way of clinging to the past and my pain. But knowing it wasn’t real didn’t keep me from being shaken by the haunting image of my brother.
The still, lifeless version that lay before me.
I wanted to see him again…even if it was only a dream.
I pulled his body close and cradled him in my arms.
It was useless, and I knew it wouldn’t do me any good, but I wanted to hold him close…one more time. I cried out, giving a voice to all my hurt, my frustration, my pain.
I woke up, screaming out, tears and sweat running down my face as I panted like I’d just finished a 5K.
Just a fucking nightmare, I reminded myself. But even knowing that intellectually, I couldn’t shake the awareness of how real it all felt…or that horrifying image of my brother lying on the ground.
It was so clear, so vivid. And it shook me to my core.
I slid off the bed and headed into the bathroom. As I turned on the lights, I noticed just how much my hands were shaking.
I was fucking trembling.
Between the tears, the sweat, and the shaking, I was transported back to that moment when Mom and Dad told me about what had happened to Brady. How they’d held me, and we’d all cried together because of what some bastard had done to someone who had been so special to us. I wondered about Ethan when his parents passed. Considering his hard feelings toward his grandmother, surely he hadn’t felt like he could share his grief with her. Had he felt totally alone after losing those closest to him? I couldn’t even imagine what that would have felt like.
I took a breath, collecting myself as I rested my hands on either side of the sink, looking at my reflection in the mirror. Beads of sweat ran down my face. As I panted, my breath fogged up a spot on the glass.
“It was a stupid dream,” I told myself.
I had this uneasy feeling in my gut about Ethan. I knew it was because the dream had reminded me of just how scary that moment in the alley really was. About the reason why I’d intervened with Ethan and that stupid fucking kid. Because unlike my brother, who I never had a chance to help, with Ethan, I could do something. And the thought of not being able to help…like when my feet were frozen in place in that nightmare…was horrifying.
It brought back all those feelings of helplessness that had been so crippling to me when I was sixteen.
After I managed to calm down, I headed to my room and crawled back into bed, grabbing my phone and pulling up an old pic of Brady, looking into those bright green eyes—eyes filled with so much more life than the image I’d seen in my dream.