Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 73828 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73828 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
“We used to take trips to Tennessee as a family. Camp up in Signal Mountain for a few nights. That’s where my dad grew up, and Mom liked that it gave us a chance to get away from it all. This was back when she wasn’t totally obsessed with her career. Back then, she did her best to be a mom and a congresswoman. When I was in middle school, she used to take me and Becky out for milkshakes on Thursdays when we got home from school. Dad was working every day, and that was the only free time Mom had with us. Most of the time, we were being watched by our nanny. But Mom did her best to make sure when she got home from work to spend time with us. I remember how excited Becky would be when we’d go on those little trips together. She liked strawberry milkshakes the best. And if you could have seen the way her eyes lit up as soon as Mom gave it to her. She would just beam with excitement. And she was the most beautiful kid in the fucking world.”
His face trembles as he continues. “It’s hard watching her turn all the memories I have with my little sister into a marketing tool.”
“I can imagine.”
“Mom and Dad were always so busy with work, and they went out of their way to spend time with us, but Becky was the only one I had to play with. She was my best fucking friend in the world. I remember one day when she came home from elementary school, she was crying, and I finally got out of her that she’d asked to play kickball with some other kids, but they told her no. Oh my God, you would’ve thought they’d fucking hit her with how it tore me up. I just wanted to find those kids and beat the shit out of them. Then, not three years later, we found out about the diagnosis, and it was like watching kids being mean to her every single day. Watching her get picked on. My poor, helpless sister who I couldn’t do a fucking thing for.”
I wish there was something I could do or say to help him right now, but I know it’s just my job to listen to him.
I set my hand on his. I want him to know I’m here for him.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“The situation was horrible, but there was one physician assistant in their chemo center. She would spend time talking to Becky during her treatment. Didn’t just talk to her, but she’d buy her little presents and bring her coloring sheets every day. Her name was Sierra, and she was the best fucking woman on the planet. She’d read stories to Becky. Spend extra time with her. Make her laugh. Make her forget about what she was in the middle of. Even made me forget sometimes. She wasn’t just doing her job. She gave a shit. And that helped so fucking much.
“That’s what I’m studying for. To be a physician assistant. Because if I can give someone else that—if I can be there for someone when they need that support most, my life will actually matter.”
“Your life does matter,” I say.
His expression shifts as he looks at me like he suddenly has a question for me.
Wiping his face with the back of his free hand, he glances around. “Did you ever bring Keith here?”
“What?” I’m surprised by the change in the conversation, and how cold his words suddenly sound compared to how they were when he was talking about Becky.
“Did you guys…do this? Things that made him maybe imagine things were moving in a direction that…”
“I can tell you with total confidence that I didn’t talk about shit like this with him. He would’ve totally got the wrong idea.”
“You’re not worried about me getting the wrong idea?” he asks.
I’m not, and that scares me, because unlike with Keith, I wouldn’t mind if he got the wrong idea. I haven’t admitted it to myself until this moment, but seeing Mark looking as beautiful as ever in this moonlight, wanting to soothe the pain from his past, it’s hard for me to deny my growing attraction to him. It’s not just his body or that he’s some rich kid looking to live on the wild side.
I’m intrigued by him. I don’t know him very well, but I want to know him. I want to understand him. I want him to share those secrets he carries around with him. Secrets about his life. Secrets he would want to share with someone who meant more to him than I do.
I don’t like that I feel this way, but fortunately, I can tell Mark isn’t interested like that. And even if he was vulnerable enough to let me in right now, as soon as some brat like Greg came along, he would move along in no time and just remember me as this strange period in his life where he had a crazy fling with the school drug dealer.