Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 102781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
“Yeah. Despite the whack job who’s raising him, he’s turned out to be a really good kid. He’s got his head screwed on pretty well.”
“He really looks up to you.”
The hot tub had been helping to relax my muscles, but that comment made them tense again. “Yeah.”
Annalise went quiet, and I had an idea what she was pondering.
“Do you mind me asking how old he was when his mom died?”
“He was three.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah.”
“Was she…sick?”
I held her gaze. “Car accident.”
Her eyes dropped to my torso. She was smart enough to put two and two together. And I knew she was debating asking.
It was the last thing I wanted to talk about. I stood. “It’s getting late. Why don’t I grab us some towels?”
Lucas was snoring by the time I got out of the shower. The day had been pretty great, but the mention of the accident had brought my head down. I sat on the bed across from Lucas, watching him sleep. He looked just like his mother now. It was hard to imagine that in only a few more years, he’d be the same age she was when she’d given birth to him. Which made me think…I needed to have a talk about condoms and birth control with him. Fanny wasn’t going to do it. Hell, I’d had the talk with her daughter, too.
A lotta good that did.
My phone vibrated on the end table, so I swiped to check my messages.
Annalise: Sorry if I was being nosy. You got quiet after I asked about his mom. I didn’t mean to upset you.
I attempted to put her mind at ease.
Bennett: You didn’t. Just tired. The long day must’ve caught up to me.
I doubted she’d bought it, but at least she wouldn’t push.
Annalise: OK. Well thank you for letting me tag along today. I had a great time. Goodnight.
Bennett: Goodnight.
I tossed my phone back on the end table. In the eight years since that night, I had never spoken to anyone about the accident—except for the cops and the lawyers. Not even the shrink my mother had sent me to could pry that vault open. For a long time, I just figured the less I thought about it, the easier it would be to move on. Until recently.
Sophie’s journals had stirred up a lot of things inside me. I was starting to wonder if keeping it in had let me move on at all, or if maybe letting it out might be the only thing to set me free.
Chapter 34
* * *
January 1st
Dear Me,
We’re sad.
Bennett has been gone two months now. He’s only a few hours away at UCLA, but it might as well be halfway around the world. We miss him. A lot. He has a new girlfriend. Again. He said this one’s a marketing major, too, and they hang out all the time like we used to.
We’re still dating Ryan Langley, but sometimes when we’re kissing him, we think about Bennett. It’s really weird. I mean, he’s Bennett, right? Our best friend. But we can’t seem to stop it.
College isn’t so great. I thought it would be different. But it feels like just another year of high school when you live at home—only without Bennett here. There’s even a bunch of kids in my classes who were in my classes back at RFK High.
Everything is the same, yet so different.
We got a job at a hair salon answering the phones. The people there are really nice, and it pays pretty good. We’re hoping to save money and get our own place. Mom’s new boyfriend Aaron is a jerk and is always home.
This month’s poem is dedicated to no one.
She glances backward,
afraid to move forward now.
Why aren’t you here?
This letter will self-destruct in ten minutes.
Anonymously,
Sophie
Chapter 35
* * *
Bennett
How bad did I want the job?
Annalise had left for her weekly dinner with Madison a few hours ago. Since I had an early-morning appointment out of the office tomorrow, and my bed would be empty tonight, I’d stayed extra late to finish things for my full pitch to Star Studios, which was coming up soon. This week had been busy as hell, even though it was only Wednesday. And we still had dinner with douchebag’s sister on Friday.
I grabbed the key to Annalise’s office from Marina’s top drawer to leave some sketches on her desk. At lunch today, she’d mentioned she was stuck coming up with a logo for a kid’s magic marker company that was expanding into a line of professional artist markers. An idea had come to me while I worked on shading in a different project, and I thought it might work for her client.
Annalise had brought the account with her from Wren, so we weren’t in competition—I had no reason not to help.
Only when I went to put my drawings on her desk, I found the entire concept for her Star pitch laid out there: storyboards, 3D-logo models, and a thick, red expanding-file folder labeled RESEARCH. I stared at the banded folder—there had to be three inches of damn research. Way more than I’d done. What could she have in there? Shit that could give her an edge, that’s what.