Total pages in book: 188
Estimated words: 179812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 899(@200wpm)___ 719(@250wpm)___ 599(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 179812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 899(@200wpm)___ 719(@250wpm)___ 599(@300wpm)
Not to mention, my phone already had a tracking software. So I left it in the hotel room. I told Snow I’d make sure to call her every day to check in even though I was leaving my phone behind. By the way, this is why I was probably the last one to know about the leaked video. I didn’t have my phone and no one had a way to contact me so I only got to know about it when I called Snow two days ago and then almost died with embarrassment because my little sister, my sweet and innocent Snow, was the one who told me about it. She told me a bunch of other things but I ignore them like I’m ignoring everything else.
Anyway, for someone who hates secrets and hiding things, I was going gung-ho on the whole cloak and dagger stuff. But whatever. Clearly though, I did not do a good enough job because he found me only three days later. But that’s somehow not important even after all the lengths I went to, to hide myself. What’s more important is this: “You talked to Isadora?”
He looks me in the eyes. “Yes.”
“I didn’t think you’d—”
“I know,” he says. “Which is why you chose her.”
Again, my heart skips a beat at this. That he actually went and had a conversation with her when he refuses to even look at her. When he refuses to mention her name. When he still thinks he’s in love with her. All for me, all to find me.
Before I can steel myself again to ignore this little tidbit of information, he speaks, as if reading my thoughts. “I don’t.”
And he doesn’t have to explain what he means by that just as I don’t have to say things out loud to him. He’s my mind reader and somehow, I’m the reader of his heart. If only he listened to it rather than burying its voice deep inside of him.
I go to say I already know that. I already know he does not love her anymore. This is not new information to me. I was the one who told him that when he drops a bomb on me. “Realized it the night everyone found out about their engagement.”
“What?”
He licks his lips again as he says, never once looking away like he knows I deserve that courtesy from him, “I was shocked, yes and my head was all fucked up. But not because she got engaged to Stellan, the girl I thought I loved. But because he got to be with the girl he loved while I had to stay away from the girl I wanted.”
“The girl you wanted,” I repeat, my heart beating in my throat.
“You.”
“Me.”
He grips my hands even tighter as he confesses, “I knew if I got back home that night, I wouldn’t be able to stay away from you like you wanted me to. So I drove around until I could get myself under control, get my need for you under control and only got back when I knew I’d be able to honor your wish.”
Honor my wish. For no secrets, no sneaking around. No lying to the family. I remember that night. I couldn’t get any sleep either because I thought he was in pain, and I thought I should break my promise to myself and soothe it.
“Why didn’t you tell me that?” I ask even though I think I already know the answer. “Why did you let me believe you still loved her?”
He swallows. “Because I didn’t want to give you any excuse to run.”
I should be angry at him. So fucking angry for lying. So fucking angry for hiding things, for doing twisted things to keep me from running. But all I want to do is cry. All I want to do is break down in tears because can’t he see? Can’t he see he loves me? He loves me so much and just because he’s so stubborn, so hardheaded he won’t admit to that. He won’t admit to his feelings and will keep hurting me. Hurting himself.
I swallow too, getting ready to send him away. If this is what he came here to tell me along with his pretty purple flowers, my answer is again, no, thank you. I don’t want to be with him. I don’t want anything to do with him.
But once again, he doesn’t give me a chance to say anything or even erect my walls and says, his voice rough and deep, “I was jealous. I have been jealous. Of my siblings.”
At this, I pause. I give him my full attention, despite knowing it’s not advisable. If I give him an inch, he’ll take a mile. But I wasn’t expecting him to say that, to admit to it. I wasn’t expecting him to be blunt about it either, both in his words and in the way he’s looking at me. Like even though these aren’t really nice things to say but he can’t be embarrassed about them because they’re true.