Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” he says to me, then turns in the direction of the voice.
I peer around him at Maya, who is standing there. She usually has a judgmental expression when she sees Soren with me, but right now, she looks lost.
But I won’t pity her.
No, she doesn’t deserve that from me.
“Maya, what are you doing here?” he asks.
“It’s been weeks, Soren. You have to forgive me,” she pleads.
She appears quite pale, almost sickly, and her hair is greasy and lifeless around her face. She looks miserable.
“What you did was unforgivable,” he tells her.
I glance at him and then back to her. She’s crying now, and they seem to be real tears.
“I would never have hurt him. I only wanted you to remember how important family is. We are important to each other, as Cressida and her son. We have a bond.”
He tenses at her words, but doesn’t back down.
“We are not the same as them. I am not your father, Maya. I have helped you enough, and I can’t keep doing it. It’s unhealthy for both of us.”
I see the tight line of his jaw, the way his hands clench at his sides. It’s clear this isn’t easy for him. Without thinking, I reach out, my hand brushing against his. He takes it without hesitation. In that simple touch, I feel the weight of what he’s doing, drawing a line, protecting us both, even if it hurts him. For the first time, I understand just how much this means to him. And suddenly, my anger toward Maya fades, replaced with something softer, a quiet gratitude for the man standing firm beside me.
FORTY
SOREN
I know my sister well enough to tell if she’s trying to pull one over on me. And right now, she definitely isn’t. I know that she’s broken, but I can’t be the one to always put her back together. It’s not my job anymore. She’s a grown-ass adult, and she needs to start living like one. I’ve given her everything necessary for her to live the best life possible, and she keeps on blowing it.
I’m at the point that I have no idea what I’m supposed to do about it. So, I’ve thrown my hands up in the air and said, “Fuck it, she can work it out herself.” I don’t need to baby her, even if she is my baby sister. I got her this far, and I don’t need to take her any farther. She’s in her early thirties, and by now she should have at least a fraction of her life together, but she’s barely held a job for longer than a few weeks. She likes to blame it on her sickness, but that doesn’t prevent her from working. She uses it as a weapon, and I see that now. And I have to stop letting her do it.
Cressida’s hand is in mine, grounding me in a way nothing else does. It’s strange how something so small can settle all the noise in my head and give me clarity.
I don’t need her.
I want her.
That’s the difference.
Needing someone feels like weakness, and I’ve had enough of that in my life. But wanting her—that’s deliberate, conscious. She is not my escape, but she is my calm. And hell, that might scare me more than anything else.
Maya notices. Of course she does. It’s hard not to notice because I won’t let Cressida’s hand go, no matter what.
Her first mistake was offering it to me.
Now I have her trapped, never to escape.
“Soren, please,” Maya whines.
“Keep working, show me you can change. But for now, you aren’t my priority,” I tell Maya.
“That does not mean you can take my son again. I have nothing to do with any of this,” Cressida interjects hotly. “Next time you do something so stupid, not even your brother will be able to stop me.”
“I see it now, I do. And I’m sorry for doing that to you,” Maya says to Cressida. “I hope one day you can forgive me. I never meant the kid any harm. I just didn’t know how else to make my brother see that we are all each other has.”
“But you aren’t. Some people go their entire lives without family. Family is what you make it, so make your own and love your brother for everything he’s done for you. Right now, you use him and abuse his generosity. Why? Because he has money? Because you are the only woman he struggles to say no to?”
I squeeze her hand. She’s wrong about one thing—it’s not my sister I struggle to deny. It’s Hurricane, the black-haired raven next to me.
My sister’s gaze slides to me.
“I’ve started therapy,” she says. “With Arlo.”
Why did he not tell me that? Granted, I’ve been avoiding a lot of things lately and not talking to many people. It’s hard when you feel like your life is a fucking shithole.