Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 140742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
After it happened, I went back to Onyx and asked employees questions that still remain unanswered. When Titus found out what I was doing, he forced me to let it go, and I did. Not because I no longer cared, but because it was the only thing I could do for my own mental and emotional well-being. Maybe if Dad hadn’t died by suicide, I wouldn’t have been so triggered by what happened, but he did and I was. I swallow the knot in my throat and focus on my breathing exercise. There’s nothing I could have done differently. It wasn’t my fault. I repeat those things over and over until I sort of believe them again. I don’t think I ever will. I lie back down and let myself cry until I’m out of tears and my throat is hoarse.
Maybe Finn coming to me with this is a sign for me to face this trauma. Doing that would mean immersing myself in Mallory’s world, which would mean speaking to those friends … the ones she made me swear on my life I’d never mention to anyone … and I haven’t. I’m not sure I can even get in touch with them, but now that the idea is in my head, I know it’s not going anywhere. I rub my face over my hands and push the thought away for now. When I finally check my phone, I see a slew of notifications and texts.
Unsurprisingly, I see some notifications from Tate, who's been leaving comments frequently on each one of my posts. I don’t understand why, with the way people attack the hell out of him each time he does it, and today is no different.
Tate: photo cred
Gemma11: @Tate ARE YOU SERIOUS?
PantherP: @Tate GET OFF HER PAGE. YOU LOST ANY RIGHT TO SPEAK TO HER
CarlaM: @Tate YOU MESSED UP ASSHOLE
BlazeBunny: @Tate F. U. CHEATER !!!!
Gemma11: @PuttingQueen CAN YOU BELIEVE THIS GUY!?
PuttingQueen: @Tate you’re an idiot. Stop trying so hard. She doesn’t want you!!
I click on my private messages and find some from him as well. I stare at his name but don’t open the thread. He started sending them the night I saw the pictures and videos of him and Gracie together, which was also the night I called him and sent him to hell before blocking his number. Blame it on the usual sadness and helplessness I feel today, but I finally unblock his number. Now that he’s back in town and I’m much calmer about the whole thing, it’s better that I deal with him.
Me: pls stop commenting on my posts. You’re making things worse.
His response is immediate.
Tate: can you please tell security to let me go up?
My heart drops.
Me: you’re here?
Tate: I need to see you.
Tate: please
I bite my lip and stare at the phone when it starts buzzing with a call from him. I send it to voicemail quickly and text back.
Me: I’ll come down
I shut my eyes and take a couple of deep breaths, trying and failing not to think about my father. It’s not like I don’t think about him each day, but it’s as if my body remembers and grieves his death extra today. By the time I get out of bed, my chest is aching, but I push it aside and focus on what I’m going to say to Tate when I get downstairs. There really isn’t much, but I want to make sure to keep the peace, even if it’s just for Titus’ sake.
I get ready quickly. After the fastest shower I’ve ever had, I throw my hair into a bun and put on sweats and the first t-shirt I find. I find my slides by the door, grab my keys, and head downstairs. As I stare at my reflection in the elevator doors, I realize that despite my best attempt, I still look like I just rolled out of bed. When I step out of the elevator and turn the corner, I spot Tate holding a bouquet of roses and my stomach turns.
I haven’t so much as looked at a picture of him after what he did. Since my brain has been filled with thoughts of Finn, I didn’t think seeing Tate would make me feel anything, even disgust, but here I am, feeling. He’s wearing khakis and a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up, his blond hair perfectly slicked back. That’s one thing about Tate, regardless of what’s happening, he’s always going to look put-together. When he sees me, his blue eyes brighten, and he begins to walk over.
“Thank you for agreeing to see me,” he says, handing me the bouquet, which I take and smell.
“I figured I’d have to see you sooner or later.”
He flinches and glances at the sitting area. “Can we sit and talk?”
“As long as you don’t apologize.”