Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 133878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 669(@200wpm)___ 536(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 669(@200wpm)___ 536(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
Max stilled at the words and seemed to get emotional. “I don’t know that Brooke would say that right now.”
If there was one thing he knew, it was that Brooke loved her brothers. She would forgive them eventually. “Brooke is hurt that you don’t trust her. She’s feeling guilty because she thinks she wasted all the time and money you spent on her.”
“That’s such bullshit. We never said that.”
“The trusting her part or the wasted money and time part?”
Max’s head turned, and his expression was oddly calm. “Both, and you’re excellent at deflecting, but then I suspect you would have to be. It’s hard to be the one who always fucks up, isn’t it? Even though you never fucked up. It was just put on you. I’ve been thinking all this time that you and your brother were somewhat like me and mine. And you are. I keep trying to figure out which one is me and which one is Rye. You see, Rye is the one who always does the right thing and I’m the one who fucks up.”
At least Max saw him. He supposed it was inevitable that someone would see through his arrogance and bravado. “Well, then I guess I’m the fuck-up.”
“I’m sure your stepmother made you feel that way.” Max’s tone softened. “Why are you still with Bay? I know your parents died, but I can’t imagine wanting to stay with the brother who sat by and watched you be abused.”
“He didn’t.” A single memory washed over him, a moment that formed so much of the core of his being. “When my mom left me on the doorstep, my father wasn’t home. My stepmom left me outside. She told me I should run away. That no one wanted me. I didn’t know where to go. I had a SpongeBob suitcase and a backpack my mom had packed for me. I remember it was raining and I was cold and she hadn’t fed me lunch. She said my new mom would, but it was obvious my new mom didn’t want me. It was getting dark and then Bay showed up. He’d come from around the back since his mom was in the living room calling everyone she could trying to figure out how to get rid of me.”
“How old were you?” Max asked.
Brooke’s brother was going to truly understand how imperfect he was for his sister. “I was five and so was Bay. Dad was doing well at the time. I mean not well enough to pay child support or anything, but they had a nice house and a treehouse in the backyard. Bay took me up there and told me we were brothers and that it didn’t matter what his mother said, he was my big brother and he would take care of me. And he did. I spent that first night in a sleeping bag in the treehouse, and then Dad got home and the pastor came and suddenly I had a little space in Bay’s room. When he was old enough he told her he would run away if I couldn’t do the things he could.”
A long moment passed before Max spoke again. “And how did you adapt?”
Shane shrugged. He supposed he had in a lot of ways. Ways he was trying to unlearn. “I learned to not like anything. Or at least to never express I liked something.”
“Because she would take it away?”
“Yeah,” Shane admitted. “I know everyone says foster care sucks, but it was better for me than being home. It was hard for Bay, though. Despite everything he still had some love for our parents. His mom saw how talented he was. She gave him everything he could want when it came to art. She tried to make it so he didn’t have to do a thing but work on his portfolio. She had dreams of him going to art school in Paris. I don’t know that would ever have worked out, but one day he had a future and the next he didn’t.”
Max seemed to think about that. “You never had one so it didn’t bother you.”
It was nothing less than the truth. “The group home felt like freedom to me.”
Max’s head shook. “Was there any money? I know that’s a stupid question. If there had been money, someone would have come forward and taken you and Bay in. So she wanted Bay to go to art school but she didn’t save any money?”
His stepmother had been a complex woman. “In her defense there was never any real money. My father blew it the minute it was in his hands. She thought Bay’s talent would save her.”
“So you decided to rodeo and make some money that way,” Max surmised. “Let me guess—you got tired of making the money and then it all going to pay for your next broken bone.”