Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Two weeks ago, I’d asked my doctor if I could fly. She’d suggested another two weeks and so I’d booked my flight for the Sunday. The day after we’d collected the Welsh dresser and I’d discovered Ramsay’s secret room.
I’d barely slept, and Taran knew there was something up with me, but I’d hoped she’d put it down to my upcoming travels and concerns about London. She and Cammie had offered to accompany me, but I’d only bought a one-way ticket because I didn’t know how long it would take to figure out what was going on with my best friend. And I wasn’t leaving New York until I was satisfied she was safe and happy.
We’d had a friend in high school, Shay. We weren’t best friends like London and I were best friends, but the three of us used to hang out a lot. When we were seventeen, Shay started seeing this older guy. Trevor. It was noticeable to me and London that Trevor quickly grew controlling. One of the things he used to do was constantly check Shay’s phone and talk shit about her parents and us, trying to separate Shay from all of us. Shay broke up with him after a few months and he’d hassled her for a little while until her new boyfriend put the fear of God in him. The memory of Trevor’s behavior, along with the ick Nick had always given me, had my alarm bells ringing.
I’d left in the middle of the night for my flight from Glasgow to New York. It was one of only a handful of airports in the UK that offered direct flights to my home city. I arrived at four o’clock in the afternoon my time, but it was only eleven in the morning in New York. Despite my exhaustion, I wanted to get onto eastern time as quickly as possible, so I forced myself to stay awake, checked into my hotel, ordered room service, and had a shower. By the time I was ready, I knew London would be at work.
The restaurant in Manhattan was fancy, but I needed to be discreet with my return to the city. Therefore, I wore a ball cap and sunglasses as I left the hotel. I’d chosen a hotel in Soho near Nick’s apartment building to be close to London. However, she was the sous chef of a French restaurant in Midtown. According to live maps, it was as quick to grab a cab as it was to get the subway, so I chose a cab.
London was fifteen the first and only time she really got her heart broken by a boy. She’d been in love with a guy we’d met while on vacation at the Cape. One day he’d kissed me, and I’d immediately told London. But telling her that the boy she loved had tried to cheat on her with me, her best friend, was the first time I ever had butterflies facing London. I was so afraid she’d blame me. My mom warned me she might at first but also claimed London would come around.
In the end, London hadn’t blamed me. She was devastated, but she also felt bad for me that he’d put me in that position. Because that’s the kind of friend she was.
That day as I got in the cab, it was the first time since the summer we were fifteen that I had butterflies going to visit the woman I considered a sister.
The city passed me by, and now that I’d eaten and showered and was no longer in a plane daze, I drank in the place that had been home for most of my life. The buzz of vehicles and people, the tall buildings, vendors, stores, and chaos of life—there was a familiarity to it, a nostalgia. It was like a childhood house filled with memories … but it no longer felt like home.
It stunned me into silence in the back of the cab.
Because … Leth Sholas felt like home.
I’d hoped for it as soon as I walked off the ferry in Half-Light Harbor and experienced that feeling of rightness.
And my dream came true.
It was home.
New York might not be that for me now, but London still was. She was still my home too.
After paying the driver, I slipped out of the vehicle and stood in front of the French restaurant that wasn’t open for another hour. The scent of food and traffic fumes hit me as soon as I got out of the car.
It was funny, but I hadn’t realized how crisp and fresh the air was back on Glenvulin until I stood in New York again. It felt like a smog across my chest. It wasn’t the first time I’d noticed the air quality difference. I’d been lucky to travel all over. Most cities were like that. Smog. Fumy. A chaotic potpourri of opposing scents.