Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 72969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Eagle flops onto an oversized beanbag on the floor, watching me as I set up the game.
I hand him a controller, and we fall into a comfortable silence as we start the game. The familiar thrill of the race begins to ease some of the tension in the room.
For the next few hours, we’re not two grown men dealing with the complexities of life. We’re just Eagle and Hawk, two brothers competing for bragging rights in a world of pixelated race tracks and infuriating power-ups.
Every so often, I sneak glances at Eagle. I can tell he’s lost in the game, his focus solely on his character on the screen. But there’s still a shadow in his eyes that wasn’t there before.
“Still got it,” Eagle grunts as he wins our third race in a row.
I chuckle, shaking my head. “Beginner’s luck.” What a crock. We’re both seasoned players.
“You wish,” he returns, but there’s a ghost of a smile on his face.
We play a few more rounds. Yet the longer we play, the more I notice Eagle’s growing quietness.
I pause the game, turn to face him. “All right E, what’s going on?”
He sighs, rubbing at his forehead. “It’s…Dad, actually.”
I nearly spit out my drink of soda.
Dad?
Not some sort of drug relapse? Not Scarlett Bellamy and another of her dramas?
“Okay,” I say. “What about him?”
“I can’t wrap my head around it,” he says. “He actually tried to kill himself.”
I get it.
We all had a rough time letting the news sink in. But the actual attempt was months ago. We’ve processed it. At least I assumed we all had.
Dad’s awake now, and even though he’s not making sense, his prognosis is pretty good. This is great news. So why is Eagle so freaked?
“He did,” I say. “But the good thing is that he wasn’t successful. In fact, he merely grazed his skull. If he truly wanted to kill himself, he could have done it no problem. Dad’s a crack shot. Hell, he taught all of us how to shoot.”
Eagle nods. “True. But what if it was a cry for help or something?”
“You mean you think he’s depressed?”
“Yeah. I mean, why else would he do it?” Eagle swallows and puts down his controller. “And what if it’s like, hereditary, you know? I mean, Dad’s supposed to be this huge pillar of the community. He’s the patriarch of our family, and he’s always been our rock.”
An uncomfortable silence settles over us. I don’t think my father was depressed. He certainly didn’t show any symptoms.
But would I even know?
Nah…too easy.
“I don’t think whatever Dad is going through is hereditary,” I say. “I don’t think he was depressed. He probably just felt cornered, like there was nowhere else to go.”
Eagle’s eyebrows shoot up. “What do you mean? Do you think Dad’s into something bad?”
Fuck.
The last thing I need is to start my brother down that road. It’s only a hunch on my part anyway. I’m usually much better at keeping my theories to myself. I started up the Nintendo to get Eagle to relax and talk. Fuck it. I let my own guard down too.
“No, no,” I say. “What I mean is that he’s probably just overworked. Look at what’s happened over the last decade. Cooper Steel nearly went bankrupt, and he had to work hard to save that company and get it profitable again to avoid thousands of layoffs. Plus he runs the ranch. Falcon went to prison, Nana died, Raven got sick. It’s been tough, E.”
Eagle visibly relaxes a bit and picks up his controller.
Good.
He bought it.
I wish I could.
But I know Austin Bellamy isn’t the pillar of society everyone—including my brothers and sisters—believe he is.
I witnessed him do something heinous years ago.
Dad explained it away, and I was just a kid.
I never told anyone.
But I’ve also never felt at peace with my father since then.
And I probably never will.
18
DANIELA
Lunch break comes, and there’s a small dining area with several round tables set up for students. Most of the young men and women are already seated, eating and chatting with new friends. I scan the room, feeling oddly out of place. These people are mostly older than I am, though a few look young enough to be fresh out of high school.
I make my way to an empty table at the far end, but Jordan waves me over.
I smile and join them. He’s sitting with two women.
“Daniela, hi,” he says. “Meet Gina and Lavender.”
I recognize both women from class. They were partners in the kitchen. Gina is a pretty woman with dark skin and eyes, and Lavender… Well, she lives up to her name. Her skin is fair, but her hair and her nails are light purple.
Already I’m embarrassed about the lunch I brought. Simple ham and cheese and a Tupperware of fresh blueberries. Gina is—seriously—eating sushi out of a bento box, and Lavender is noshing on a quinoa salad that looks like something out of a gourmet cookbook.