Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71403 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71403 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
The speech comes right back. I guess it was just a brief visit to that other dimension. “I think it’s really unfair and, quite frankly, ridiculous that you keep treating me—”
“Like the villain? Because you are. He still asks about you. Just to make sure you’re doing okay. How many times have you asked about him?” she wonders out loud. “None? It’s almost like you’re glad you kicked him to the curb.”
“I am,” I state, losing my cool. “You have no idea what kind of person he really was, Heather.”
“You’re so dramatic,” she mumbles.
“Making up all these stories about himself just to keep me fascinated. Ever since we were teenagers, treating our relationship like a game of make-believe, and my life was the playground. If you only saw how quickly that mask fell right off when he realized I was ending things …”
“‘My life was the playground’ … You should listen to yourself.”
“He was fake. All the time, Heather. Pretending to be the boyfriend he thought I wanted. He started wearing my clothes like a costume. He’d change his opinions on the fly just to match me. He was a performer. He was …”
I almost say “an actor”.
But stop myself for some reason.
Thinking about a certain someone.
Heather takes a breath and faces me. “Don’t get me all wrong here. I care about you, Finn. I know you’ve got your side to it. All I’m saying is, Theo isn’t the demon you think he is, and it makes me feel a certain way to watch you go on so easily with your life while he’s an emotional wreck. File this in the cabinet for me on your way out, please?”
I take the folder from her and lean in. “I recommend you keep your eyes wide open, because there’s a chance he might not be as much of an emotional wreck as you think.”
After filing away the folder, I head for the door. Before I make it out, my sister asks, “What’s the new tenant like? Brooke said you met him a few days ago.”
I’m still angry. My voice can’t hide it. “He’s fine.”
“Just fine? Not sure how far I’d trust some person who doesn’t use his real name, demands not to be disturbed, and overpays—with money routed through some shell LLC. Is that not ringing odd to you? Sure, more money for us, but the last thing we need is our name and business dragged into some drug deal scandal or whatever he’s hiding.” She looks over at me. I’d hesitate to call the look in her eye concerned, but her voice is soft when she says, “Be careful if you have to stop by there again.”
I grip the doorknob so tightly, I could crush it like a ball of tin foil. But my voice reflects the softness in hers when I reply, “I’m always careful,” before heading out.
Always careful, I hear myself say.
After chasing a guy I don’t know down the rocky slope of our north beach in the pitch dark.
Try as I might to ignore my sister’s words, they follow me the rest of the afternoon. They follow me to the gym as I’m on the treadmill, literally trying to outrun them. Then they have the nerve to mock me when I go too hard on the overhead presses and pull something in my shoulder. I go back home with an aching neck and shoulder and still hear her words as I fix my shake and down it while staring out the window at the bungalow.
I know a few more truths than my sisters do. He’s not a drug dealer or a dangerous guy. He’s a lonely actor in need of a place to stay. He’s requesting a bit of solitude because he’s tired of the cameras and paparazzi, obviously. What’s more human than wanting an escape from the stresses of your life and hiding away in a remote beach town? All the more power to him to do exactly that.
I wonder where one escapes to when they live in said beach town.
I won’t be able to sleep a damned wink tonight.
It’s the evening when I drive down to the Quicksilver Strand—exhausted as fuck—then park and walk my sleepy ass to the Easy Breezy. Not for a drink or cheat-day basket of fries. I go for the warm advice of the beach town daddy that is Cooper, everyone’s second father figure, the owner of the Easy Breezy who has, in more situations than I can count, been the voice of reason when I’m struggling. It’s an ideal night to talk to him, too, the bar slow with just a few people in and out from the beach and the waning sunlight.
And for the second time this week, he’s fucking busy with his boyfriend and totally not here.
“Seriously?” I explode at poor Chase, whose big eyes grow bigger at my outburst. “This … bar … is Cooper’s bar! Cooper … should be at Cooper’s bar now and then!”