Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 119852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
“And how fun do you think it was, watching you dive into the murky underbelly of red-pill podcasts to rescue people? All the while, knowing they were psychologically designed to trap you there and hoping you’d escape before they hurt you or someone else?” Chance.
“And of course it was great preventing you from self-destructing with high-stakes risks and even stupider decisions, all in an effort to best someone who didn’t give a shit about competing with you?” Carter.
“Do me, do me,” Kyle taunts, shaking his handful of grapes before tossing one into his waiting mouth.
“Why? You were so desperate for attention that you’d do nearly anything to get it, having to be saved over and over again,” I summarize for him. “You acted like the bad boy for a reason that wasn’t even true. You are the definition of the rebel without a fucking cause.” I glare around the room at each of them, the fury I’ve suppressed for years finally boiling over the serene surface I’ve always maintained. “Do any of you give one single, solitary, shitty thought to what I’m thinking or feeling about this clusterfuck of a family? Or do you just assume that I’m perfectly fine with everything? Because of course, I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”
My voice has gone a little too high, a bit too loud, and I’m bordering on hysterical.
“Fuck, tell us how you really feel,” Kyle mutters, still grinning like the Cheshire Cat. How is he still enjoying this? He’s been better, not picking and poking to stir up shit at every turn, but it seems he’s back to old tricks.
But I’m tired of the same old thing. So fucking tired of constantly carrying everyone and everything without so much as a thank you or even the slightest situational awareness of ‘wow, you really saved my ass there’.
“Kayla,” Cameron starts, but then swallows whatever he was going to say and sighs. Instead, he says, “You’ve stood by all of us through some awful times, and we’re all good now. Partially thanks to you.” My brothers all nod, agreeing with him.
“Thank you for that bare minimum, and way too late, acknowledgement,” I say, my voice colder than ice.
“Is this some sort of delayed rebellious streak?” Chance asks. “Like now that we’re fine, it’s your turn to act out, go wild, and make overtly bad decisions?”
If Kyle had said that, I wouldn’t have been shocked because he’s irreverent like that. If it’d been Cameron, I would’ve understood since he’s in the thick of pubescent changes with Grace. Carter or Cole? I probably would’ve been hurt, but gotten over it. But Chance said it, in that condescending tone he used to get when he thought he was better than someone simply because he’s the Boy Scout type who never makes mistakes. His verdict is woven through his questions, and it’s obvious he’s already decided I’m an immature, impudent child who doesn’t know what she’s doing and needs to be led back to righteous, appropriate choices, by shame if necessary.
My mouth pinches for a split second before I surge to my feet, standing over my brothers. “You know, what? Fuck all of you. Especially you.” I point at Chance. “How dare you dilute whatever it is I’m doing down to some tawdry, wild oat sowing, sexcapade. I told you I’m happy. I said I want this, and you come back with that?” I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head in disappointment, though I shouldn’t be surprised at him. “Get out. Everyone. Out,” I order, done with this whole intervention that wasn’t needed in the first place.
If Kyle hadn’t shown up.
If he hadn’t seen me.
If he hadn’t told everyone.
If, if, if… things would’ve been fine. I had it handled and was making progress with Riggs and Maddox. I was making progress with myself.
But nope, there’s no going back. No sand-filled hourglass to flip over and turn back time. So I stomp to the front door, yank it open, and stand aside.
They look from one to another, not sure what to do. I don’t have outbursts. I don’t overreact. And no matter what, I am always in control. Always.
But my breathing is too fast, I can feel the flush on my face, and I’m on the verge of spilling out even more vitriol at every single one of them. For all the times I spent helping them, listening to them, loving them.
And at the slightest inconvenience, the smallest unusual twist in my life, their support is completely nonexistent. The betrayal is deeply gut-wrenching. Well, fuck them.
Finally, or at least it feels that way, they get up, shuffling to the door uncertainly.
“Kayla—” Cameron says, the perpetual captain trying to right this ship.
I shake my head, refusing his effort, and the other brothers follow his lead, silently marching past me with grim looks of disapproval and disappointment. And a fair amount of ‘what the fuck just happened?’