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)
I trust my own piece more, but this one’s cocked and ready.
“Just put the knife down, Ralph,” Jason says evenly. “I’ve already called the cops. They’ll be here any minute.”
“How dumb do you think I am?” Ralph asks. “And I don’t care about the cops. All I care about is denying you the love of your life. I did it once, and I can do it again.”
He presses the knife into Angie’s throat.
No.
Not happening.
“Ralph, don’t—”
I pull the trigger.
Make the shot.
Right under his right eye.
The knife clatters to the floor.
Ralph crumples under Angie, two separate pools of blood seeping out of him, one from the gash in his forehead, and the other from a bullet wound.
I turn around.
I slowly place the still-smoking gun down on the concrete floor, like it might go off again if I move too fast.
Everything’s too quiet. The kind of quiet that buzzes in my ears. It’s sharp, and it’s wrong. My hands are shaking. Not violently—just enough for me to be aware. Just enough to know I’m not fully inside myself anymore. Like part of me stepped out and hasn’t figured out how to climb back in yet.
There’s blood.
I don’t know how much, and I don’t want to look too closely. But it’s there, and so is he—crumpled, not moving. Eyes open, but vacant.
God.
He’s dead.
I just took a human life.
I step back. My heel scrapes against the floor, the sound too loud in this thick silence. I want to speak, to say something—anything—but my throat’s locked up tight.
Someone’s breathing. Ragged, fast. Not me.
Jason. My sister. Tabitha.
They’re alive. That much I know.
I didn’t think. I didn’t plan. He was holding a knife to Angie’s throat. He nicked her.
Angie’s blood.
No time. No second-guessing.
Just a clean shot and the echo of it ringing through my skull like a bell tolling in a nightmare.
My stomach turns.
Someone says my name. I hear it but don’t answer right away. It sounds distant, like it’s traveling through a tunnel.
Henry…
I look up.
My sister’s crying. Jason has his arms around her. Tabitha is frozen, her eyes locked on me.
Something in me wants to apologize, but I don’t even know what for. For what I did? For not hesitating? For not falling apart?
I did what I had to do.
But why does it feel like everything just broke anyway?
My mouth is dry. I feel like I’m standing outside myself, watching the scene from some high-up place I can’t explain. A man is dead. I pulled the trigger.
And I’m still standing.
For now.
Fifteen
Tabitha
Lorenzo’s Italian restaurant is dated but adorably chic. The moment I step inside, the scent hits me—garlic, simmering tomatoes, fresh basil, and something warm and buttery.
The mismatched wooden tables and chairs are covered with red-and-white checkered cloths.
There’s a hand-painted mural on the back wall of Tuscan hills, rolling vineyards, a crooked little villa with laundry strung between windows.
The low croon of Dean Martin comes through hidden speakers.
The walls are cluttered with framed photos—family portraits, black-and-white wedding shots, a few Polaroids of smiling customers taped up near the register.
It’s not fancy.
It feels like love and carbs and old family stories.
A pretty woman greets us. “Angie!” she gushes. “And the rest of you.” Her gaze falls on me. “You must be Tabitha.”
Small-town life, I guess. Everyone knows everyone. Of course, all the Steels grew up here, as did Maddie, Angie’s sister-in-law.
I met Angie’s cousin Gina the last time I was here, but this is the first time I’m meeting Brianna Pike. She’s married to Jesse Pike, the lead male vocalist for Dragonlock.
She’s tall and gorgeous—not that I expected anything less—and dressed in a mini prairie skirt and red—yes, red—cowboy boots.
Must be nice to come from a family where everyone is beautiful.
I feel like the redheaded stepchild next to all of them, including Maddie.
I nod to our hostess. “I am. It’s very nice to meet you.”
“I’m Lisa. I own the place. We’re so happy to do your bridesmaid luncheon today.” She leans toward Angie. “We’ll be serving family-style from all of the dishes that you requested, Angie.”
“Please say it includes lasagna,” Brianna says.
“Of course,” Angie tells her. “I know how much you love your lasagna, Bree.”
“Always,” Brianna replies. “I have it as often as I can now. When we were growing up, we didn’t get to have much cheesy Italian food because of Diana’s lactose intolerance.”
Diana. She’s Brianna’s older sister, the one married to the drummer in the band.
The girls chuckle among themselves. I kind of feel like the odd woman out.
Until Angie grabs me. “You sit by me, okay?”
I cock my head. “Shouldn’t you sit by your maid of honor?”
She shrugs. “Sage will be on my other side. But you don’t know anybody here. Not really. I don’t want you to feel weird or anything.”
I’ve never been one to shy away from new situations. I can be the life of the party for sure. But here, with all of Angie’s family, I can’t help but feel like I’m in way over my head.