Fable of Happiness (Fable #2) Read Online Pepper Winters

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Dark, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Fable Series by Pepper Winters
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Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 144760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 724(@200wpm)___ 579(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
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Without waiting for me to reply, he vanished into the darkness of the foyer, disappearing into a mansion that’d watched too many children been broken down, twisted up, and spat out into despair.

I swayed to go after him.

I locked my knees and forbade it.

I’d let him go, nursing the new wounds he’d given me, dragging myself to the bathroom where I’d endured an icy shower. I hadn’t cried while I dressed in a powder-blue nightgown with a lace collar and spaghetti straps. I didn’t give in to the pressure as I shrugged into my hoodie and crawled under my stolen blankets to lay staring at the stars.

And even now, even with hours between this moment and that, I still refused to give in to the crush of agony that Kas was so skilled at delivering.

I sighed for the millionth time.

Enough, Gem.

Just...enough.

I sat up.

On nights like this at home, I’d get up and either scroll through some climbing forums or go for a climb. I had a twenty-four-hour pass to my local bouldering gym. I’d often haunt the slabs and be found repeating routes at six in the morning when other people would arrive for a session.

God, I want to climb.

I tipped my head back and looked once more at the sky. A little overcast but no rain. It would be a perfect night for a workout. I could slip into my gear and grab my climbing shoes and find something in which to take out my loneliness.

The urge to go rushed through me.

Kas wanted me to leave?

Maybe he was right.

Perhaps, I should leave for the night. Regardless that my body was exhausted from firewood gathering, I had a well of nervousness and unsatisfied desire.

A small climb, even just halfway up the cliff, would do wonders for my peace of mind.

Do it.

Scooting out of the blankets, I darted through the games room and into the library. There, I found my rucksack sitting by the desk. The food and chocolate bars remained in the downstairs closet, but my ropes, quickdraws, and other equipment had never been unpacked.

Kneeling beside it, I unzipped the heavy bag and rifled through my gear.

The instant my fingers touched the nylon rope and the cool metal of the carabiners, my heart panged for an easier existence. Homesickness filled me, and tears pricked my eyes.

The dry smell of chalk and the slight whiff of my climbing shoes brought back so many memories of Joshua and me arguing late at night. How he called me reckless when I regaled tales of almost tumbling off an 8A boulder with no crash mat. Of my mother curling her nose with confusion as I tried to show her how my new harness worked. Of Katie, my closest friend, when we challenged each other to speed climbing and both came in woefully slow.

I sat back on my heels, struggling not to cry.

What were they doing now?

Was anyone still looking for me?

Where was Josh? Did he gather a search party, or was he too used to his wild sister disappearing on some rock expedition, only to pop back up online with a new video, perfectly fine?

I was guilty of not corresponding very well when I was on the road.

Once, I’d gone two weeks without messaging anyone. Too caught up in the present moment, camping at the base of a tall cliff, editing my videos by solar charger at night, and generally being selfish with my time, cutting everyone out until I was ready to re-enter society.

Oh, God.

I hugged the sudden cramp in my belly.

Maybe that was why no helicopters had scanned the area or why no hint of a rescue party had appeared. Maybe Joshua had just rolled his eyes at my vanishing act—conditioned to expect me to randomly appear on his doorstep, covered in mud, tired from living in a tent, gushing with stories of stone that he couldn’t care less about.

He probably thought I would’ve activated my locator beacon if I was in any real danger. The very same beacon he’d watched me buy when we’d gone shopping together. He’d listened to the same lesson I had as the shopkeeper told me how to use it, when to activate it, and what to do if I ever needed help.

Perhaps I’d been a product of my own capabilities, just like Kas.

I’d bought all the gear and invested in all the skills, convincing those around me that I was perfectly safe and not to worry. Now I’d been left to my own devices, just like I’d wanted. Just like Kas had been forgotten by those he’d fought to save. Hadn’t he taught those he loved that he was strong enough to commit murder, to bury bodies, and to do the unthinkable to get them out? His family wouldn’t have viewed him as a boy who needed caring for but a hero who was invincible.


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