Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 51484 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 257(@200wpm)___ 206(@250wpm)___ 172(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51484 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 257(@200wpm)___ 206(@250wpm)___ 172(@300wpm)
“Like I said, ask your brother if you want the truth.” I start walking again, done with this whole fucking conversation. I can’t stand here, looking at her anymore. Not when I’ve spent five years trying to convince myself to get over her…only to realize that maybe I never will. With her in front of me, that’s never been clearer.
Sutton Peters is going to haunt me for the rest of my life, and I’m not sure who I hate most for that. Her brother…or myself.
Letting her hate me for something I didn’t do was so goddamn easy back then. It was the lesser of two evils. If Jamison was a bastard for what he did…what the fuck did that make me for falling for her when she was still seventeen?
I asked myself that question a thousand times. I still don’t have an answer. Didn’t really matter if she was legal by the time the fight happened. Didn’t even matter that I never made a move on her. None of that changed the fact that I fell for a girl I knew was too goddamn young.
“I’m not giving up,” she calls softly, her voice full of the same stubborn conviction that used to drive me wild. “I l-live here now. In DC. I took a job in accountant at one of the hospitals a few months ago.”
Fucking hell. That’s exactly what I need. Living with the ghost of her memory and my regrets was hard enough. How much worse will it be having her haunt me live and in living color?
I don’t want to find out.
“This city is plenty big enough for me to avoid you.” I stalk out with my heart in my throat.
This time, even though it fucking kills me…I don’t look back.
Chapter Two
Sutton
Jordan has changed since I last saw him. He’s a lot angrier, for one. He’s also a lot more inattentive.
I manage to follow him all the way to his truck without him noticing me trailing behind him. Or maybe he notices and just doesn’t care. He made it clear that he wanted nothing to do with me, didn’t he?
God, he’s so angry, so bitter…and he’s been that way for years.
I swallow the lump in my throat, popping my eyes open wide to keep myself from crying as I plant myself in front of his truck, effectively blocking him in. But I can’t silence the little voice in my head, telling me that it’s my fault that he’s turned into the man he is.
Once upon a time, he was different. Gentle, caring. Protective. He smiled, teased, and laughed with me. And I was fucking wild about him. Stars-in-my-eyes, butterflies-in-my-stomach, crazy about him. We circled around each other, drifting closer like magnets, but he never closed the gap entirely.
I was convinced that, sooner or later, he’d realize that I wasn’t just his best friend’s baby sister. He’d finally fall in love with me, too. We’d get married and have babies. Basically, my life would be a fairytale.
And then the fight happened.
When Jamison woke up in the hospital and told me that Jordan was in love with Vanessa, all my illusions shattered. The man of my dreams was in love with my brother’s girlfriend. I was devastated.
But I’m not sure I ever stopped loving him. I wanted to hate him. God, it would have hurt less if I had. But I just…couldn’t. I slapped him and told him to go to hell, not because he injured my brother, but because he broke my heart.
I’ve been mad as hell ever since, but I couldn’t let him go. I moped for months after he was sent down to the minor leagues, just drifting in a fog while life unraveled around me.
Vanessa quit college and stopped talking to me.
Jamison started drinking. A lot.
I devoured every news article about Jordan, desperate for any semblance of connection. I feel like I’ve just been drifting for the last five years, trying to hold everything together. But it hasn’t been together since that damn fight. Not for me. And certainly not for Jamison, either.
When he finally cracked four months ago and admitted that he’d lied and that Jordan should have hit him, it felt like the world was crashing down around me again. For five damn years, he maintained that lie. He ruined Jordan’s life. He ruined mine. I think he ruined his own, too. And for what?
I still don’t know. I still don’t understand.
All I know is that everyone thinks my brother has it all together, but he doesn’t. He drinks all the time. He never goes out. He’s bitter, full of self-hatred. And I’m certain it’s because he did something awful.
“Son of a bitch,” Jordan growls when he finally spots me standing in front of the truck like a human roadblock halting his escape plans. He flicks a glance up at the sky as if to ask for patience, and then those steely gray eyes lock with mine. “Move, Sutton.”