Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 135539 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135539 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
I can’t stay another second. Biting my lip to keep from crying, I flee the room.
Thirty-Seven
August
“You okay, man?” March peers at me from the stern of Jan’s bass boat. We’re currently drifting around in the middle of the lake. Pretending to fish. Because I’d been ordered out. Except neither of us really knows how or actually wants to fish at the moment.
“That was a hard hit,” he adds with a frown.
No shit. A five-foot-six pissed-off woman knocked me flatter than any hulking linebacker ever could. I swallow thickly and flick at the tab of my coffee thermos. It’s supposed to be temperate here, but the lake is freezing today.
“Pen had a hard time accepting my help from the get-go. She didn’t want anyone to think she was taking handouts from me.”
“She’s got to know that you don’t see it that way.”
“I think she does. But too many people, including our sisters, assumed she was too.”
“The hell they did.” March glares back in the direction of Jan’s house where, presumably, our sisters are. Somehow, I doubt Pen kicked everyone out of the house. Just me. “What the hell, August?”
Icy wind sweeps down over the tree line, rustling the leaves and rippling along the water. I hunker deeper into my parka. “They didn’t put her down for it, just assumed our association came with financial benefits for Penelope. We set them straight, but the fact is I am helping her.”
With a sigh, I make a point not to look back at the house. “It chafes her regardless, but all of that was relatively private. Until her fucko father put it out to the world.”
“Fucking bastard.” March tosses his gloves on the seat by him and roots through our snack pack. He rips open a bag of chips with a vengeance. “The guy always was a colossal dick bag.”
We clink coffee thermoses in agreement.
“Point is, what was once a sore spot is now an open wound.” And she won’t let me help her heal. That hurts the worst. Not that she needs some time alone, but that she ordered me to go away. As though I was part of the problem.
“I’m part of the problem,” I say aloud. Yep, sucks just saying it.
“Oh, bullshit.” March gives me an irate look. “Are you kidding me?”
“No, I’m all over this. Doesn’t matter if my intention wasn’t to hurt her. She’s still hurt.”
“By her selfish dick-weasel dad! Not you.”
March’s immediate and wholehearted defense of me is gratifying. But it also makes me feel worse. Because he doesn’t know the whole picture. No one does.
“If it wasn’t for me, she wouldn’t have this particular hurt going on.” For the first time, I truly understand Jelly’s desire to put some distance between himself and his girl, if only to ease the fodder their relationship gives the public. But, no, it’s worse. Pen was assaulted too. All because of me.
Absently, I rub the aching hollow behind my breastbone.
March, however, continues to scowl. “If it wasn’t this, it would be something else. Like it or not, we’re famous. Someone is always going to dig up some shit to drag out and flap in the wind. I know Penny understands this.”
I thought so too. But does it even matter? She’s been repeatedly hurt. Because of me.
I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t know what she’s thinking about now. And it’s quietly killing me. Worse? She doesn’t have all the facts. I’ve been keeping something from her and it’s a big thing. I don’t want to lie to her anymore.
I could lose her. Even now.
The hollow in my chest gets deeper, colder. Clearing my throat doesn’t help.
“There’s something I have to tell Pen, and I don’t know how.”
March pinches the bridge of his nose. “Please, please, please, don’t tell me you’re dumping her for the game because I will fucking kill you where you sit.”
“What? No. Dump her? As if I could.” But maybe you should . . . No! No. “Why would you even—”
“Sorry. What with Jan and all the utter shit piled on him that we’re just hearing about . . .” He shakes himself like a dog. “Fuck. It’s got me twisted.”
“Okay, I have shit timing.”
“Well, I wasn’t going to say it.”
“You basically did.”
“Fine. Lay it on me, brother, because my balls are freezing off and I want to go inside.”
I want that too. Not just for my balls, although I am worried they’ll soon be frozen to the boat seat. Mainly, I just want to be back with Pen.
But I can’t until I have a game plan. So I tell March the awkward truth. When I finish, I don’t feel lighter. If anything, the hollowness has spread to my guts. Silence rings out, broken only by the occasional cry of a red-tailed hawk migrating south and the slight lap of lake water against the side of the boat.