Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 41664 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 208(@200wpm)___ 167(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41664 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 208(@200wpm)___ 167(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
Alanna cocked her head to the side and looked at me with steady calm. “Then fix it.” She was quiet for another beat, then added, “That’s what you do. You break shit. You fix shit. And when the whole world goes to hell, you stay standing.”
My mouth twisted into a sardonic grin. “Ever the optimist.”
“No.” Her voice was soft but firm. “You just forget sometimes that you’re the good guy in your own story.”
That landed harder than I wanted it to. I glanced away, out at the trees, the horizon bleeding orange into violet. In the silence, the last slice of sun disappeared, and the overlook dimmed, edges going soft. A car hissed by down on the road, taillights trailing a red ribbon that was swallowed by the next bend.
When I found my voice, it was low and gritty. “This is different. If I fuck this up, there’s no do-over. Not for her.”
“Then don’t fuck it up.”
Silence stretched, filled only by the chorus of cicadas that had joined the frogs and crickets in song.
Then Alanna punched me in the arm. Not hard, but solid enough to sting.
I glanced at her, brows raised.
“And don’t make me come to Crossbend and kick your ass,” she warned, grinning now. “I know people.”
I snorted. “You know me. That’s all you’ll need.”
The grin faded into something softer, lingering. She leaned her head briefly against my shoulder, and for a few seconds, the world went still. Just the two of us, standing against the dying sun, the weight of everything else held at bay.
At that moment, I remembered exactly why I’d never let go of her, no matter what our parents wanted.
I slung my arm around her shoulders and kissed the side of her head. “Tell me what else is going on in your life. Any boys I need to flash my cut at?”
I didn’t care how old my baby sister was. I didn’t like the idea of boys anywhere near her.
Alanna snorted. “No. But if a guy catches my interest one of these days, you’ll be the last to know.”
For the next hour, we caught up on everything we’d missed in each other’s lives since the last time we’d found time to get together.
Eventually, she checked her watch and sighed. “I should get back soon.”
“Right.” I slid a look at her tires again, and she groaned before I could open my mouth.
“Fine,” she huffed. “Text me the name of a decent shop. I’ll get them done. Satisfied?”
I shrugged. “Temporarily.”
“You used to be fun,” she muttered.
“I was never fun.”
“You were when Drift took you to that lake party senior year.”
“Drift took me to a lake party so I could rewire his ride with a cigarette lighter and a coat hanger after midnight because he didn’t want Kane to know he’d stalled it doing fucking donuts. I was a mobile repair shop.”
“You got kissed that night,” she sing-songed, nudging me again.
“I got cornered by a girl who smelled like cinnamon Fireball and wanted my hoodie,” I corrected with a grimace. “I’ll spare you the details and just say that it was not something I was interested in repeating.”
Alanna laughed, covering her mouth with her hand, the sound bright enough to pull at something old inside me.
“I miss you, kid,” I admitted softly, giving her another one-armed hug.
“I hate that we meet like spies,” she murmured, the twinkle in her gray eyes turning sad. “Sneaking. Lying. I hate that Mom looks at me like I’m about to catch whatever you have if I say your name.”
“You can stop lying any time you want.”
“You know I can’t.” She swallowed, her gaze shifting toward the tree line. “Not yet.”
The yet hung there. Heavy. I didn’t push it.
“How is it with them?” I asked.
“Mom is…Mom. She makes dinner and leaves it on the stove when I get off the late shift. Dad asks about grades like they’re the only proof I’m worth the water I drink. They don’t say your name.” She glanced at me, mouth twisting. “It’s quieter,” she admitted. “But not in a better way.”
“Baby sister…” I let the nickname land soft.
She bumped my elbow with hers. “Don’t baby me.”
“Never,” I lied, with a wink.
We stood like that for a little longer, shoulder to shoulder, watching the stars brighten as the last glow of the sun disappeared.
“Tell me about her,” she asked gently.
“No,” I said automatically, then amended. “No details. I can’t. Not yet.”
“Is she scared?”
“She doesn’t show it.” That warmed something in me I didn’t recognize. “She works hard. Learns fast. Doesn’t whine when the job gets hard.”
“She sounds like she might be good for you.”
“No one is good for me,” I deflected, the response as automatic as breathing.
Alanna didn’t bother arguing. She just made a small sound that said she knew me better than I wanted to be known.