Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 113270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Now, the late-afternoon sunlight slants through the windows of Bennett and Norah’s house, and I press my cheek into Autumn’s hair and breathe her in. She smells like innocence. She smells like hope. She smells like the breath of fresh air I need right now, and I cling to the feeling by tightening my hug.
She giggles and wiggles like a worm in my arms. “No squishes, Bee!”
God, those curls. Glossy brown spirals that frame her round cheeks and startling blue eyes that grab ahold of your chest and suck you inside, heart first. I swear, if her hair were blond, she’d be Summer’s twin. The thought makes my whole body ache. I miss her so much.
I kiss the crown of her head one last time. “You sure make cute kids, Ben. Goodness, Summer would’ve adored her.”
Norah’s eyes are warm, her hand resting on Bennett’s, and my brother’s mouth tugs into a ghost of a smile, though his eyes hold a little moisture.
“She would’ve,” he agrees. His voice is quiet but certain.
I set Autumn down, and she toddles off toward the basket of dolls in the corner. The silence she leaves behind is thick but tender, full of love and loss braided together.
Forever seven, that’s our sweet Summer. We lost her two years ago, and sometimes it still feels like yesterday.
“Here,” Norah says, handing me a cup of coffee as I sit down across from Bennett.
Immediately, I wrap my hands around the mug. The warmth helps steady me. We don’t have to have the toughest conversation about my dad’s final fuck-you—I already called Bennett after the will-reading and had it, so that wound isn’t fresh anymore, but it’s certainly bruised and pulsing in the background.
Still, I find myself filling him and Norah in on the rest. “Logan showed up at the gallery yesterday,” I say, my voice weary. “I was already packing up my shit and ended up telling him I quit. He looked panicked and begged me to stay and run things for him. Apparently, he knew about Dad’s will before he died. He knew the galleries were going to him.” I shake my head. “God. After everything Dad did, after all I sacrificed…and he just…cut me out of it all. And Logan knew and agreed to it. It’s all so awful. I don’t even have words.”
“I hate to say it, Breeze…” Bennett pauses, his jaw flexes, but his eyes hold no surprise. Which, frankly, shows how fucked up our family is. “But that sounds about right for Logan. Thinking you’d just run the galleries for him. You’re seeing the side of him I’ve been privy to for years.”
Bennett and Logan’s relationship has been strained for more than a decade. I don’t know if there’s anything that would have brought them back together after all that’s happened between them, but I’m sure Logan’s role in Dad’s will planning and the galleries being taken away from me are only serving to nail the coffin shut.
“And the money,” I add carefully. “I didn’t tell you before, but…it wasn’t just the galleries. He left us twenty million each.”
Bennett’s expression hardens instantly. “I don’t want a dime of it. Not from him. Not after everything.”
“I figured.” I nod, affirming that his message is the one I conveyed on his behalf. “I told Logan that. And I said the same thing for myself.”
“Dad never saw me as a son,” Bennett says. His tone is flat, but the words land heavily. “I was an asset. A machine to produce work he could sell. Work that brought attention to his precious galleries that had you as a workhorse behind them the whole fucking time. That’s all I ever was to him. And sadly, that’s probably all you were to him too. I hate this is how you had to find out, though.”
Norah squeezes his hand, her thumb brushing over his knuckles.
“Mom’s not much better,” I murmur.
“No, but at least she’s not worse,” Bennett says with a shrug. “Flighty, selfish, off chasing cabana boys on some beach. She never cared about my paintings. That made her easier. She might not be mother of the year, but she sees me as her son, not a paycheck. And she never would’ve faulted you for telling Dad to fuck off and run the galleries himself either. I don’t need her around, but there’s a little less dancing on the grave to it, if you know what I mean.”
“That’s true.” I lean back in my chair, watching him. “Though, as her daughter, I could never trust her around any men I dated.” My mother loves to flirt and seduce, especially when the men are younger. Even her daughter’s boyfriends weren’t off-limits. “Our family is so screwed up.”
“Yeah.” Bennett laughs, and he squeezes Norah’s knee. “However, Norah’s family might take the cake for the most fucked up.”