Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 96292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
She frantically wipes her face through her sobs and trails of black mascara down her cheeks.
Slowly buttoning my shirt, I shrug. “I don’t hate what you or the Rawlings have,” I say in defeat. “I just don’t want it. I never want to forget where I’ve been, and how many people are still there. Not for a night out in fancy clothes. Not for anything.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Flynn
I return Rupert’s Chevelle and text Monroe:
Can u come get me? No questions asked
He picks me up twenty minutes after I send him the address. As requested, he doesn’t ask questions. He drives to the empty parking lot behind the auto body shop where he works. Then he reaches into the back seat and pulls a six-pack of beer from a sack and hands it to me as we stare at the outlines of graffiti by the service entrance door.
I crack open a beer and down half of it. Monroe’s phone lights up with a text from Naomi, but he turns off the screen and flips it face down on the dash. He’s my only true friend, and I’m losing him to a woman and the life neither of us ever imagined. I’m happy for him. He deserves it.
“She’s rich,” I say. “And famous.” I drink the rest of the beer, crush the can, and toss it on the floor at my feet before opening another beer. “And I’m not pissed off that she didn’t tell me. I’m pissed off that I waited too long to tell her my …” I laugh. “My exciting news. I’m an ex-convict. That would go over well at Thanksgiving with her rich family. Right?” I lean my head back and close my eyes. “She’s … fucking brilliant, man. A cellist with a band. And they’ve played concerts around the world. She’s talented beyond words. Smart. And for whatever reason, she liked me. But it was all a lie. We were a lie. She was hiding her greatness. I’ve been hiding the most regretful, embarrassing parts of my life.” I lift my head and open my eyes. “Doesn’t matter now. It’s over.”
“Because you told her and she doesn’t want to be with you?”
I shake my head. “I didn’t tell her. I was going to. That was the plan. Even if I lost her, I needed to tell her. But after I discovered her secret, I just … couldn’t. Man, you should have seen this person who recognized her. She went on and on like June was her idol. And I felt like a fraud standing next to her.”
“I think you’re too hard on yourself, Flynn.”
I shake my head. “If she were my daughter, I wouldn’t let her within a mile of a guy like me.”
“A guy like you? Define that. A hard worker? A guy who cares less about himself than literally everyone he meets? A survivor? A loyal friend? A fucking muse?”
I laugh, shaking my head before drinking the entire contents of another can of beer. “Stupid job. That woman is either going to kill herself or she’s not. And her husband will blame me no matter what. I’m not a muse. I’m a … what’s the word? Something goat?”
“Scapegoat?”
“Yeah, that.” I crush a second empty can and toss it on the floor. “And I don’t even care,” I mumble and sigh. “Some nice person with good intentions and a tragic story of their own will pat my back and tell me it’s not my fault. It’s the story of my life. But I’ve spent a lot of time locked up for a life that hasn’t been my fault. Ya know?”
“Maybe she’s different, Flynn.”
“She’s not. You should have seen the look on her face when she had on the expensive dress the Rawlings sent her or the way she couldn’t stop smiling while we ate dinner at that fancy restaurant. The orchestra. Just … everything.” I open another beer, feeling the start of a nice buzz. “And ya know what? I don’t even blame her. Cuz it’s not really her fault that she’s smart, pretty, talented, and rich. But it makes it hard for her to know me. To feel me.” I pound my fist against my chest. “Like really feel me. That’s what money does. It numbs you toward the rest of the world.” I slouch against the door and close my eyes.
Monroe takes the beer from me. “Where can I take you? I can’t take you to my apartment. Are you staying with the Rawlings?”
“Yeah,” I whisper. “Sort of.” All I see is June biting her lip to hide her grin. All I feel is her fingertips on my neck. Her sweet perfume. The sound of her voice so soothing like a song. And for a few weeks, she chose me. The version I let her see.
She’s right. I’m the asshole.