Total pages in book: 180
Estimated words: 176012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 176012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
When I don’t reply, he pulls the shot back with a small smile, everyone uncapping theirs and raising a toast.
“To no school and no books,” Kade announces.
“Oh, you love books,” Hunter fires back.
“Fuck off,” his twin gripes. “You know I can barely read.”
Everyone laughs, but I watch Quinn toss back her shot and pull another one out of Kade’s backpack. She’s the only one old enough to drink, other than me, but I watch her the closest. She’s going to be drunk in fifteen minutes.
“To Fallstown and the lake,” Dylan chimes in.
Followed by Farrow. “And a summer of fun!”
“Ow, ow, ow!” Kade and Hawke howl, everyone raising their drinks high and then swallowing them down.
And as Hawke and his girlfriend toss theirs back, extending their necks, I see them. The tattoos, just like Farrow’s.
My chest caves, the ink still on my back that Quinn noticed all those years ago suddenly burning.
They’re Green Street too? What the fuck is going on?
Quinn tosses the second empty tube back in Kade’s backpack and leaves, hopping over a low wall. I should talk to Hawke.
I debate for a moment, but then follow her over the wall and up another one, walking down a small slide. She hits the grass, finds her flip flops, and heads across the lawn, back toward the patio.
I dig in my heels, powering after her and tossing Noah his shirt as we pass. I see him look at me, but I don’t stop.
How much has Weston infiltrated Shelburne Falls? Hawke wouldn’t be doing anything illegal, would he? Jax raised him better, and these kids have choices.
Fuck.
Everyone is eating, drinking, and laughing, segregated into small groups around the pool as music spills out of the speakers. I make my way straight for Quinn, but then Jared is there, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and tugging her in close.
I halt.
I should apologize. I want to leave her with a good memory of me, at least.
I can’t see Jared’s face, but he talks to her with a folded piece of her pizza in his hand. She nods, and they seem happy.
Just leave. She probably wants to stop looking at my fucking face anyway.
Gritting my teeth, I turn.
But Madoc is there, beaming at me. “Just in time.” He puts an arm around my shoulder and turns me back to face the crowd. “May I have your attention, please!”
Ah, shit.
“I know most of you made sure to be here,” he announces, holding a drink in his hand, “because I always have an open bar, but there is a deeper reason.”
“Madoc…” I beg him to stop.
The music cuts off, and out of the corner of my eye, I see Quinn and Jared turn toward us.
“When I was sixteen,” Madoc tells everyone, releasing me and addressing his guests. “I met this kid who supposedly needed a strong, level-headed, positive, and well-behaved male influence.”
Chuckles and snorts go off around the pool.
“But he got me, instead,” he teases, throwing me a look. “I tried to be a big brother to him, set an example, give him advice, and show him the ropes, but the more time I spent with him, the more influence he had on me, instead.” His tone softens, thoughtful. “I started watching cartoons again, and remembered how good cereal tasted, and I started rooting for the Cubs.”
“Go White Sox!” someone shouts.
Others clap and cheer.
But I can’t unclench my jaw, everyone’s eyes like lava on my skin.
I was so nervous the first time I met Madoc, but I shouldn’t have been. He was a pro. It took me all of four minutes to get attached to him.
“He was supposed to be the one who needed me,” Madoc says, his voice gravelly. “But the truth is, I was heartbroken when I met him. I’d lost someone very important in my life.”
I tilt my eyes up, finding his wife on the other side of the pool. She smiles small through her chin trembling and the tears in her eyes.
Years later, I found out that while I was losing my father, Madoc was a teenager, losing the girl he loved. He was suffering, too, the day we met, not that he let on.
“And I was acting like an asshole because of it,” he explains to his guests. “This eight-year-old kid reminded me of who I used to be when I was happy, and I didn’t want to be numb anymore. I wanted him to be happy, instead.” Madoc looks around the crowd, everyone quiet and listening. “My dad once told me that if you’re a good father, your hopes and dreams transfer to your kids when they’re born. They come first.”
Madoc’s father is Quinn’s too, and he would know. He wasn’t an attentive father to his son. But he learned.
“So I cheered for the fuckin’ Cubs,” Madoc goes on, smiles breaking out around the pool. “And subscribed to MAD magazine. And built airplane models and ate hot dogs three times a week, because they were his favorite, and I was grateful for every second of it…” He locks eyes with me. “Because I think I needed all those things more than you did.”