Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 77120 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77120 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Because that’s exactly what I am.
I get to the house, walking through the back. Looks like my parents are still gone, and thank God that Angie, Sage, and Tabitha are nowhere to be found.
“Come on, buddy,” I say to Zach.
I head straight to my room, peel off my clothes, start the shower. When it’s good and hot and steamy, I step under the water.
A far cry from the pelting rain. It wasn’t exactly cold, but it wasn’t steamy hot either.
I scrub my hair, scrub my body, watch the soap slide down the drain.
My thoughts consume me.
How it felt to fire that gun.
Not that I hadn’t fired a gun before. I’ve been shooting since I was a kid. Uncle Joe taught me. He’s the best shot in our family, though my dad is pretty good too, and so are Uncle Tal and Uncle Ryan.
Shooting a target at a range or shooting beer cans out on our property is way different from shooting a person and watching your bullet slice into human flesh.
I didn’t feel brave. Or angry. Or heroic.
I felt cold.
Everything slowed down—the noise, the motion, even my own heartbeat. One second he was lunging, screaming something I couldn’t hear over the rush in my ears, and the next…
I pulled the trigger.
Just once.
The sound was deafening, but somehow the silence afterward was worse.
He dropped. Fast. Like someone had yanked the strings holding him up. And for a moment—just a moment—I didn’t move. I didn’t breathe. I just stood there, gun still raised, smoke curling from the barrel, and watched a man die because of me.
Because I made a choice.
And I’d make it again. I know that. I saved someone I loved. I don’t regret that part.
But I remember the way my hand shook afterward. I remember the look on my sister’s face—shock, relief, something close to horror.
I remember thinking, this changes everything.
And it did.
Not because I did the wrong thing.
Because I did the right thing and still feel ruined by it.
Eleven
Tabitha
“Tabs!” Angie said to me when I returned. “Where’s Henry?”
I’d pasted on a smile. “Oh, he’s right behind me. Said he wanted to check on some stuff, but I wanted to get out of this rain, so I ran back.”
That explanation seemed to satisfy Angie.
“I need a shower, and I need to dry off,” I said. “And then maybe I’ll just call it a night. I’m pretty tired from the drive.”
“Sure,” Angie said. “Tomorrow we have a bridal party luncheon in town.”
I nodded and smiled.
Now I’m lying on my bed in the guest bedroom, freshly showered, freshly dried, and feeling like complete crap.
I just need to make it through Saturday.
Two more days. That’s it. Then I can drive home Sunday and leave all of this behind.
For now, I’ll smile. I’ll help set up centerpieces and laugh at inside jokes I don’t feel part of. I’ll fix Angie’s veil and tell her she looks perfect, and she will. She deserves perfect.
I’ll stand beside her while she says her vows, and I won’t let my hands shake. I won’t let the tears slip. I won’t think about Henry. Not his voice. Not the way he looked at me like I meant something, just once, before I told him to fuck off.
I’ll get through the rehearsal dinner. I’ll toast to love like I believe in it. I’ll dance. I’ll pose for pictures. I’ll be the friend Angie needs.
Because this isn’t about me.
Not yet.
But when the last candle burns out and the bride drives off with her new last name and the world goes quiet again—
Then I’ll fall apart.
Not before.
Not here.
Not while anyone’s watching.
I wake up naturally as the sun shines through the window.
For a moment, I’m not sure where I am.
Then… The soreness between my legs reminds me.
I’m at Angie’s parents’ house.
Last night, her brother fucked me in the barn.
It’s not a bad soreness. It actually feels kind of good. The ache of being well satisfied.
I just showered last night, but I shower again.
I don’t really wake up unless I shower. This time I blow my hair dry so it falls in soft waves around my shoulders. I look in the mirror.
I like my honey blond.
All of Angie’s other bridesmaids are brunettes.
I’ll be the only blonde. Just Henry and me in the wedding party because Jason has brown hair as well.
I smile slightly at the thought.
Except Henry’s an asshole.
Then I smile again, this time big.
I will be happy—or at least put on a good show. I will do it for Angie and for Jason, because after what they’ve been through over the past six months, they deserve everything wonderful.
As for Henry…
He’s going through some crap. I need to be aware of that, show some compassion.
Forget the fact that he hasn’t shown any compassion toward me.
I’ll do it. I’ll do it all.
Just two more days.
Then I’ll get back in my car and drive home to my apartment in Boulder. I was hoping I’d be heading back to school for a surgical seminar that begins next week. I was on the waitlist, but I didn’t get a call. It’s too late now, for sure. Maybe I’ll go home to my parents’ house for a few weeks until the fall semester of med school begins.