Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
“I don’t need to be driven.” Even if it is sort of nice for him to worry. “So long as I get there soon after treatment, I’m fine. But thanks.”
Why do they both look unconvinced? Easton doesn’t keep me waiting before explaining. “Yeah, well… we sort of had your car towed out of the parking lot. So you need a ride.”
“You… what?” Just when I was starting to think they could be decent humans. Don’t I know better by now?
“You’ll have it back by morning. Scout’s honor.” Preston traces an X over his heart. “It’ll be parked in front of your house. Though you should log in from home, anyway.”
“I’ll do what I think is best.” Like that matters right now. “Why would you have my car towed?”
“That’s all in the past,” Easton insists.
“It’s right this minute,” I argue—but my energy is too low to bother pushing the issue. “Whatever. Could you maybe not do that kind of stuff anymore?”
Preston smirks at his brother, jerking a thumb at me. “First she wants us to keep her secrets, then she decides we’re not allowed to have fun anymore.” They banter back and forth, joking to make me laugh. And they do, once I let myself relax a little.
Not that it’s easy to relax. I really, really need them to live up to the trust I’m putting in them.
Because as much damage as they’ve done up to now, it could get so much worse if they decide to betray me.
20
EASTON
Everything’s different now. At least it feels different to me. I still want Emma like I did before, but now there is no conflicted feeling about it. I don’t find her antics annoying anymore, and I don’t see her as anything but strong. Fuck, she is the strongest person I know.
She got dealt a fucking shitty hand in life and still refuses to give up. I don’t think giving up is in her vocabulary. I see her in a different light now. Everything I knew about her has shifted and every memory I have is somehow more vivid.
With everything changing, I have to deal with some emotions I’m not very familiar with. I’ve become worried. Worried about Emma and her condition, worried about what is happening between us, and worst of all, about losing her. She doesn’t just have a cold; she has fucking cancer. And with a diagnosis like that, there comes a real chance of dying. The thought shifts my worry to fear.
I’ve never really thought about death before, not in this way. Death has never felt so close to me. It suddenly feels personal. Sure, I lost my grandpa a few years ago, but that’s how it’s supposed to be. You grow old, have a couple of kids, some grandkids, and then you die.
Thinking about death and Emma at the same time is like trying to force two magnets together. She just isn’t supposed to die. She is young and has her whole life ahead of her. And yet, no matter how much I don’t want to put the two together, the thought is hovering over me like a dark rain cloud.
“So, are you coming or not?” Carter drags me from my gloomy thoughts.
“Come where?” I ask, because I have no idea what he was going on about before.
He rolls his eyes at me. “The party!”
“Oh, that. No, probably not,” I say quickly. Going out is the last thing I want to do now.
“Yeah, not feeling it either,” Preston agrees. “We’ve got more volunteering to do, anyway.”
“Man, I hope your dad lets you off the hook soon.” Carter slaps my shoulder as he gets up from his seat. “I’ve got to run, catch you losers later.”
“Later,” I mumble when Preston jams his elbow in my ribs.
“What the fuck?” I rub my side before following my brother’s gaze. My eyes land on Emma, walking into the cafeteria with her head down. She quickly walks toward the line, where she grabs a tray and waits.
It’s been two days since we saw her at the hospital. She didn’t come to school yesterday, and she didn’t answer any of our text messages either. My eyes stay glued to her small form as she moves down the line and pays.
She turns around with her tray in her hand and scans the room for somewhere to sit. Her eyes connect with mine, and I see her stiffen from across the room. I lift my hand and wave her over to sit with us, but she shakes her head and turns away.
“Is she serious?” Preston asks before we both look at each other, dumbfounded.
“Of course she is,” I reply, glancing back at Emma, who has taken a seat on the other side of the room.
Without another word, we both get up, grab our trays, and walk over to her. She is unwrapping her sandwich as we each take a seat next to her at the table.