Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 36643 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 183(@200wpm)___ 147(@250wpm)___ 122(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36643 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 183(@200wpm)___ 147(@250wpm)___ 122(@300wpm)
She smiles. “Thank you, and you’re not the first person to tell me.”
James chuckles as she closes the door. “Still fiery that one.”
“Yup,” I croak out as I turn to look at him.
His eyebrows pinch together and he steps closer to me. “When are you two going to get together? I keep thinking one day I’ll get an invite to the wedding.”
I freeze and gape at him. “W-what are you talking about?”
He snorts. “I’m not a dumbass, Eric. You two have always been in love.”
“We have not,” I blurt out, denial dripping from my words. “Don’t be a dick.”
“I’m not being a dick,” James says, voice firm. “And you are. I just saw it again with my very own two eyes. It’s never been that obvious before, but it’s always been there.”
“You’ve got it all wrong,” I rasp out, unable to look him in the eye. “She’s my stepsister. We can’t be together.”
He takes another step and squeezes my shoulder. “You’re trembling. It’s cold out here and you don’t have a coat on. Go inside, man.”
I swallow hard, hating how my eyes burn with emotion. “I can’t breathe in there.”
“You have to,” James says softly. “You have to face it head-on.”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to imagine what that would look like. Painful. Horrifying. Awful. Loving Clara shouldn’t mean losing the rest of my family, but it’s exactly what would happen.
How can my family forgive me for such a travesty?
They can’t. They won’t.
We can’t do this.
Clara
I need to speak to Eric.
He’s freaking out, understandably, but I want to let him know I handled it. The girls aren’t going to say anything. I promised them a trip to the mall and ice cream after if they “don’t tell Mom and Dad about me and Eric testing out the mistletoe.”
I know he’s losing it because he’s avoided me the whole party, sticking to my mom’s side when she needs him to handle food stuff, and disappearing when she doesn’t. James has followed him around, offering whispered words to him every chance he gets, and I’m curious to what he’s saying.
If only I could get Eric alone.
Last time, you ended up making out with him and getting caught by your sisters…
The party is chaotic. Adults and children are everywhere. Mike is the life of the party, telling all his funniest tales we’ve heard a thousand times. Mom rushes around making sure all her guests are happy and enjoying themselves. Anytime Ruthie or Layla see me or Eric, they giggle out of control.
I’m ready to go home.
By the time it ends and only a few people, including James, linger, I realize Eric is completely toasted. He can barely stand on his two feet and guzzles his cocktail in seconds. I shoot James a worried look and he nods at me as if to let me know he’s got his eye on him.
“James has been watching you all night,” Mom singsongs into my ear. “Please go on a date with him, honey. You two would make such pretty babies. We adore him.”
I shrivel at her words. Not because I think so lowly of James. It’s just the truth of whom I love is bordering on humiliating. Shameful. Wrong.
Mom leaves my side to whisper something to James. He stiffens and forces a smile at her. Eric flinches, squeezing his eyes shut as if to tune out what’s being said.
Why can’t she leave things alone just this once?
The last of the guests leave. James is now practically holding Eric up, murmuring things to him. My stepbrother looks broken. It makes my chest ache.
“Oh, look, babe,” Mike says, tugging Mom to him. “Mistletoe.”
She laughs as he pulls her to his lips for a kiss. Of course, our sisters decide to show up, running past us barefoot but still in their party dresses with Barbies in hand.
“Ewwww,” Ruthie exclaims. “Mistletoe is gross. It makes everyone kiss.”
“I’m not kissing you,” Layla says with a huff, “just because you’re my sister.”
I shoot the girls a warning look. No mall. No ice cream.
Ruthie’s expression turns wicked. “They kissed. Yuck!”
Mom and Mike both laugh, obviously unaware of what Ruthie means. Eric makes a groaning sound as though he’s in pain.
“Isn’t it your bedtime?” I say to my sisters. “Go to bed.”
“Clara,” Mom says, frowning. “What’s wrong?”
“She thinks we’re going to tattle on her for kissing Eric,” Layla says, and then smacks her hand over her mouth.
Ruthie scowls. “You weren’t supposed to tell! Now Clara won’t take us to the mall!”
“Can we still get ice cream?” Layla asks, chin trembling. “Please.”
Mike clears his throat and points to the stairs. “Bed, now. It’s late. Go or I’ll tell Santa you two are naughty.”
“James, honey, maybe it’s time to go,” Mom says, voice tight. “We have a bunch of tired people around here.”
The girls scurry off. Eric shakes his head and staggers toward Mike.