Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 120186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
And I hate myself for it. I always have to get in one last punch. Can’t leave well enough alone. Another lesson learned at Roman’s hands. Under Roman’s fists.
She doesn’t even glance back. “Go fuck yourself, prick!”
Saint passes Allie her jacket, and they lean into each other, murmuring as they walk away. I don’t miss the flash of relief that flickers in Saint’s eyes as she glances back to me over her shoulder. She thinks I did this for her, but she has no idea the real truth.
That I did this for Allie, because I’m not over her, because I want her to be mine so fucking badly it hurts. She might not want to admit it to herself, but once I tell her we aren’t related, I’ll prove to her just how much she is mine.
Chapter 13
Allie
“You’re going to look absolutely stunnin’ in this dress. It matches your eyes perfectly!” The girl behind the counter practically bounces up and down on the balls of her feet after draping the heavy bag across my arms. “I wish I could see you in it at the gala. It’s so excitin’!”
Is it? Maybe to her it is. She hasn’t spent the whole week helping her mother prepare for something she dreads.
“I wish I could get you an invite,” I say with more of a wince than a smile.
You can take my place, if you want.
She waves a hand and giggles nervously, her accent somehow growing impossibly thicker. “Please. That’s your world. I don’t know nothin’ about livin’ like that.”
It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. Even if I admitted that out loud, I don’t think she’d believe me. Nobody ever does when it seems bright and shiny on the other side. They have to experience the tarnish for themselves to truly understand.
“Post a bunch of pictures online,” she urges as I head to the door. “And I bet there will be some in the paper, too!”
“I bet there will be,” I bite out, then remember myself and thank her again. It really is a beautiful gown. Floor-length green satin, and I look damn good in it if I do say so myself. Even if my mother did pick it out. The event is hurtling toward me like a speeding train, and all I can do now is hope I make it through.
Pretending to be happy is the worst part. I never really had to pretend before. There are times I grow depressed about one thing or another, sure, but for the most part, I was comfortable with my life. I could have anything I wanted whenever I wanted it. I had friends back in Seattle, or thought I did. Saint was, and still is, the only real, true friend I have.
I just… never had to think much about anything.
Then Mom had to go and fuck it all up. Oh, and there’s the whole “I almost slept with my own brother” thing, too. Oh, and the fun little “I was adopted” revelation.
With all of that, I don’t recognize my own life anymore. I don’t recognize myself.
I wish I could go back to that old version of me, take her by the shoulders, and shake her hard enough to wake up, to open her eyes a little sooner before they were ripped open the way mine were.
And I would tell her to never, ever get involved with Kade Bishop. That’s the point I would work the hardest to impress. Anyone but him, because he will never bring anything but misery. The worst part is, he likes it. He gets off on torturing me. One second, he’s protective, and the next, he’s making me do things against my better judgment, taunting me every step along the way.
“Well, hello there, Miss Allie.”
I’m lost in my head, opening the back door of my car so I can drape the gown across the back seat, when Buck calls for me. No one else calls me Miss Allie. I lift my head, searching for him, and spot him walking my way with a huge bag of feed slung over one shoulder. I don’t have to pretend to be happy when I see him, which might be the greatest gift he could give me today.
“Does this mean you got the job at Wilkins’ place?” I ask, poking at the bag of grain once he reaches me.
He smiles wide and bobs his head. “Yup. Started a couple of days back. It’ll take a little gettin’ used to, gettin’ the feel of everything, but I’m glad to have the work.”
“I’m happy for you.” One less thing to feel guilty about. Now when I see him, I don’t have to worry so much that he’s doing alright. Or that he secretly blames me because of what my mother did to him.
“What do you have there?” He cranes his neck to peek inside the car.