Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 91560 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91560 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
His brows draw together, but quickly smooths out before he grunts. “Stop changing the subject. I know that’s what you’re trying to do.” Okay, maybe he’s right, maybe I’m deflecting.
Popping a couple of chips into his mouth, he shrugs. “Have you ever thought about therapy? For real,” he adds when I sigh. “I’m not trying to be funny. I mean it. It might help you a lot after everything you’ve been through. You might need somebody who knows how to process all this shit and turn it into something positive. So you can go on with your life. Do you want to do that?”
Of course I do. So why does the idea make my heart sink? “It’s so hard to believe that’s possible,” I have to admit.
“I bet it is, but it’s not impossible. You should think about it,” he urges. “Give yourself a chance, you know?”
“It’s expensive.”
He lifts a shoulder. “Do I sound like I’m worried?”
“Tucker…” I don’t know how to say without sounding ungrateful or ruining the time we’ve been having together today. Maybe I’ve already ruined it. Maybe Dad is actually right, and that’s all I ever do. I hate thinking about him, now or ever, but I can’t pretend like he doesn’t always hover over me.
“Can you just accept a gesture without looking for a reason to doubt it?” This time he leans in to kiss me, and my heart skips a beat at the taste of his mouth and the soft groan when his tongue brushes mine. All I want is to be able to enjoy this without fear, without having to hold back. Is that too much to ask?
He grunts unhappily, breaking the kiss, checking his phone when an alarm chimes. “Shit. Class starts in ten.” That means mine does, too, making us both rush through getting our things together and gathering our trash. As usual, I promise to meet him by the truck when class finishes, so we can go home together.
That’s another thing I need to get used to: not dreading going home. And to think, I’ve missed this for so long. It’s almost like the way life used to be, years ago, when I had Mom. I’m actually glad to go home.
The thought makes me smile during class, while my heart flutters a little. I’m supposed to help Mrs. Kingsley with dinner tonight, and I’ve been looking forward to it all day. She’s such a nice woman, generous and kind. I see bits of her in Tucker in the moments when he lets his guard down and allows himself to be human. Those moments are happening more and more now, and I love to see it.
If I’m not careful, I’m going to fall so far, I won’t ever be able to find my way back.
It’s still on my mind when class ends, and I make my way outside. It’s nice, being able to walk around without expecting some jerk to screw with me. Yet another reason to feel closer to him than I should.
I wish I could make sense of it. How could we go from hating each other to this so quickly? It’s the same sort of question I asked myself about Wren and Briggs, isn’t it? Now, looking back, I understand why Wren couldn’t explain the change, because I can barely explain it to myself. Why Tucker means so much. I’m willing to let go of the recent past in favor of taking my happiness where I can get it. That’s what it’s really all about in the end. Grabbing onto any scrap of happiness I can find and holding on as long as I can. I’ve gone so long without it.
Class got out a few minutes early, meaning Tucker isn’t waiting for me when I reach the truck. I lean against it, pulling out my phone to let him know I’m waiting. A breeze stirs my hair. The birds are singing, and I’m happy. I’m really happy.
“There’s my little girl.”
It’s like jumping feet first into an ice-cold lake, the shock slamming into me all at once. I barely have time to turn my head to find my father standing only feet away before a hand clamps over my mouth from behind and cuts off the scream I didn’t have time to let out.
Something like a bee sting touches my neck, and I scream silently, helplessly, clawing at the hand, cutting off my voice and my air. “It didn’t have to be this way,” Dad murmurs as the world starts to go dark. I struggle to keep my eyes open, but it’s no use. They’re so heavy all of a sudden. And I’m so tired…
“I think she’s coming around.”
Am I? I mean, I guess they’re talking about me, whoever they are. I don’t recognize the voice. A man, for sure, but what man? And why is my body so heavy? I can barely move.