Total pages in book: 181
Estimated words: 181613 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 908(@200wpm)___ 726(@250wpm)___ 605(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 181613 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 908(@200wpm)___ 726(@250wpm)___ 605(@300wpm)
“Pete and Dahlia Westbrook,” I mutter.
“They loved each other so much that they couldn’t even be separated in death,” he says.
“Romantic,” I say.
“Yeah.” He sniffles.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so nosy.” I quickly turn away again so I can focus on wishing away all the memories of Mavis’s death.
“Mavis Rivera … She your family?”
The stranger stands behind me now, his height casting a shadow on her grave. “She’s my sister.” I suck in a breath. “I lost her a couple of weeks ago.”
He gazes at me intently. “I guess life’s cruel like that. People you think will be with you forever suddenly never speak to you again. It’s as if they’re just … out of reach.”
His words move something inside me.
I look up at him, and he holds out his hand. “Grey Westbrook. Nice to meet you.”
His comforting smile makes me feel at ease, so I hold out my hand. “Aspen Caruso.”
“Caruso?” His eyes narrow as they switch back and forth between the grave and me.
“Oh, yeah, she is—was my half sister.” I clear my throat.
Here it comes.
The I’m sorry for your loss.
Those meaningless words I’ve heard over and over again. As if it absolves the listener of their misery. As if it can take away the guilt eating us alive.
“She sounds like she was a fun person to get to know.”
Oh.
Wow.
That’s a breath of fresh air.
I look up at Grey and smile. “Yeah. She was.” I shiver, suddenly feeling the warmth rush back into my skin. “She was killed.”
“Killed?” He frowns.
My fist balls as tears well up in my eyes, but I refuse to shed them and blink them away. “By the person I once thought was a friend.”
“I …” he mutters.
There I go, trauma dumping on a stranger.
I shiver. “Um, never mind. Sorry about that.”
“Are you cold?” Grey asks, immediately taking off his coat. “Here.”
He drapes his coat over my shoulders, the gentle caress of his smell making me blush.
“Thank you,” I mutter.
“You know what? Why don’t we grab some coffee? You can tell me all about your sister, and I’ll tell you all about my parents. How’s that sound?”
I don’t know this guy yet, but the smile that follows wins me over.
It’s been so long …
And his is the kind of smile that makes you want to learn how to smile again.
Maybe it’s about time I made new friends.
“That sounds nice.”
He holds out his hand. “C’mon. It’s on me.”
Grey
“So you’ve been on your own since you were seven?” she asks.
I shrug. “Well, my uncle took me into his home, but he was never really there. I was practically raised by the nannies.”
“That’s so sad.” She leans back in her chair with her coffee.
“It was fine.” I shrug. “I mean, at least my uncle is rich, thanks to his textile companies. But enough about me. Tell me more about you. What happened?”
She takes a deep breath. “I can’t believe someone I considered my best friend would kill someone.”
“Your half sister wasn’t just someone, though. She was your family. And he took that away from you,” I say.
She tears up but nods and brushes the tear away.
I’m already so invested in this story. I’ve seen it on camera, but hearing it play out scene by scene is something else entirely.
“I thought it wasn’t true until he admitted it out loud,” she says, clutching her coffee tightly. “Levi Torres. A killer.”
I take another sip of my coffee, listening intently, as if I don’t already know everything there is to know about her.
“Of course, the Torres men aren’t exactly known for their cool-headedness.”
“You know them?” she asks.
I shrug. “I go to Spine Ridge University too. I’ve seen them around.”
“Wow, really?” She raises her brows. “I didn’t know that.”
“I like to stick to myself,” I reply.
“I should’ve done the same, honestly.” She rolls her eyes. “Guess you can never trust your friends.”
A smile forms on my lips, meticulously placed, waiting for her to return the favor.
When she takes the bait, I respond. “You trusted him. And he betrayed you. It’s only natural that you’d be angry.”
I grab her hand and squeeze, and she doesn’t pull back.
“You’re allowed to be angry.”
Her face darkens. “I’m more than angry. If it’s true … if he really did murder her … I want him to pay.”
My lip twitches as I fight the urge to smile. “What’s stopping you from making him regret it?”
Her pupils dilate and relax within the blink of an eye.
“It won’t bring her back. It won’t fix this.”
I smile and glance at the loose strand of hair dangling next to her face, wondering if she can feel the ember slowly burning into a pyre deep within her. “No. But it’ll feel good. And you deserve revenge. So take it … Destroy his heart like he destroyed yours.”
She smiles and tucks her hair behind her ear. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s about time I showed him how fiery I can be.”