Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 52663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 176(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 176(@300wpm)
You’ll come searching for me, after I’m long gone
But it’ll be too late for me to hear your sorries, I’ll be penning new songs
About how blood isn’t really any thicker than water
It’s just a title—like mother, like daughter.
She exhales and looks at me. “Does it sound okay?”
It sounds like she reached inside my chest and pulled the words straight out.
“It sounds very good,” I say. Even though I should lie. I should say nothing at all. I should turn around and walk inside.
“So um…” she clears her throat. “I’ve been meaning to catch you so we could talk.”
“About what?”
“What happened the other day in the shower.”
“That was two days ago.”
“Yeah, well… I want you to know that I wiped it out of my mind completely and I’m hoping you did too so we can make this temporary living situation way less awkward.”
I say nothing. She stands and steps closer to the railing that separates our balconies.
Then she extends her hand. “Do we have a deal?”
“A deal on what, Emily?”
“What I just said… Forgetting about—you know, and just… you know.”
“The only thing I know is that I’ve woken up and gone to bed thinking about how your pussy would taste in my mouth, and how I’d kiss your tits until you begged me to stop teasing and just let me fuck you…”
Her jaw drops as slowly as her hand, her cheeks flushing deep pink.
“I was looking forward to seeing you in New York at your performance in a few weeks, and now I have to deal with the idea that that may be impossible, so… no.” I shake my head. “No deal on forgetting a goddamn thing.”
I leave her standing there and close the door to my room.
Then I head to the shower.
9
EMILY
My heart won’t stop pounding.
Not in a cute, butterflies-in-my-stomach way—more like I’m trapped in a loop, stuck reliving the moment Cole said those things on the balcony. That voice. Those eyes.
I barely know him. We’ve shared maybe twenty minutes of actual conversation. But the way my body reacts when he looks at me like that—like he knows exactly what I’m thinking, and exactly what I want—it’s messing with my head.
I open a new notebook and scribble the title: Feelings I Can’t Reveal.
Before I can get past the first line, there’s a knock at my door.
I smooth down my hair, pulse racing, and crack it open.
My mom stands there, smiling with two mugs in hand. “Feel like talking?”
“Sure…”
She steps inside like she’s been waiting for the invitation all day. “I figured it’s been, what, a week since we had some girl time?”
I take the mug. One sip in, I wrinkle my nose. “Mom. There’s alcohol in this.”
“Of course there is.” She flops onto my bed. “No sane person drinks hot cocoa in the middle of summer unless it’s spiked.”
She’s in a good mood. That’s either a sign of something going very right, or about to go very wrong.
“This place is unreal, isn’t it?” she says, glancing around the room. “Can you believe we’re living like this?”
Not really. “Yeah… It’s beautiful.”
“If only my mother could see me now. She’d lose her mind.”
“Let’s not talk about Grandma,” I say quickly, steering us away from that familiar detour to disaster. “Tell me what you did this week.”
“Oh, the usual. Walks with Aidan along the shore, brunch with his team. We even popped into the city for something special.” She pulls a slim, silk box from her purse and places it in my lap. “This is for you.”
I blink. “What is it?”
“Open it.”
Inside, resting on a velvet cushion, is a single silver key.
I look up.
“It’s for your cabin at the Steinbeck Writers’ Retreat,” she says softly. “I saved up and grabbed the last slot.”
My throat tightens. “You… remembered I wanted that?”
“Of course I did.” She pulls me into a hug. “I started putting aside tips over a year ago. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to afford it, but I made it happen.”
For a moment, I can’t speak. I just hold on to her and let myself feel it—that quiet, unfamiliar warmth. Gratitude. Hope.
“I don’t even know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything, sweetie. Just promise me you’ll go. Even if everything else falls apart—go.”
I nod, swallowing hard. “I will.”
She pulls back and cups my face like she’s memorizing it. “Now tell me everything I’ve missed. All the juicy details.”
“About what?”
“About this week. About you.” She leans in. “And don’t pretend nothing’s going on. You’ve been floating around like your feet barely touch the floor.”
I hesitate. Just long enough to weigh the truth.
Then I smile and reach for her thermos. “Only if there’s more where this came from.”
Her eyes light up. “Always. Now spill.”
9A
EMILY
On Sunday night, a rock flies through my open balcony door, landing right on my desk.
“I know you’re up there, Emily!” Taylor squeals from outside. “Hey! Hey! Come to the balcony, damnit!”