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)
I stand, resting my hand on her shoulder for a few seconds, before heading into the house.
“Flynn?”
I stop.
“You have to tell me what’s behind your closed door.”
I slowly shake my head because it’s not a competition, and even if it were, she would win. It feels like an insult to even pretend I’ve experienced the level of emotional pain she’s feeling.
“Just … a sick fucker who liked to touch me and make me touch him. I was with him and his wife for three months. But nobody died.”
“Flynn …”
I don’t face her. I just bow my head and murmur, “I’m sorry for your loss. I’m sorry that you’ll carry it with you forever. I’m sorry there is nothing I can do to inspire you.”
“Flynn,” she says again. “It’s not a contest. And some things feel as traumatic as death. I’m so sorry that happened to you. And if you want to talk, I’m always here for you. Okay?”
After a beat, I nod.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Flynn
June: I’m sorry
I stare at her text while eating a sandwich in the kitchen. Rupert and Callie are at a funeral today. It’s just me and Loki.
Flynn: For what?
June: For waiting so long to tell u about my life before MN
What are we doing? She’s there. I’m here. She had her secrets. I still have mine. We are so far apart in every way, whatever this is that we’re doing seems pointless. What do I say?
Yeah, you should feel sorry. I would never keep anything from you.
Flynn: I lied about my job
June: ?
I took Rupert’s Chevelle for a joyride and got caught. He gave me the choice to work for him or he’d call the police. Also I was in juvie for 18 months and prison for 3 years total
Even I cringe at all that information. So I delete the last part and stick with:
Flynn: I took Rupert’s Chevelle for a joyride and got caught. He gave me the choice to work for him or he’d call the police
I wait.
And wait.
No dots.
No emojis.
Wow. That’s it? Thank god I didn’t give her everything. Or maybe I should have. If that minor indiscretion has her speechless, what would the word prison do to her?
“Okay then.” I laugh, swiping out of the texting screen. “Nice knowing ya, June.” I keep eating my sandwich even though I’m no longer hungry, and my chest aches. I don’t want it to be love. Nope. No broken heart shit for me.
My phone vibrates, and the screen lights up.
June: How long is your sentence?
My sentence? Does she mean how long do I have to work for the Rawlings?
Flynn: No clue. Afraid to ask
June: I bet you’re the highest paid convict ever
What happened? Was she distracted? Is that why she didn’t respond right away? Maybe she’s practicing her cello, but that doesn’t make sense because she texted first. No. She paused, needing a moment to digest what I confessed. And she has no idea how much irony there is in her word choice.
Flynn: I asked for a pay cut
June: Who does that?
Flynn: People who want to stay focused on what matters
Again, she doesn’t respond. What’s wrong with wanting to stay focused on other people’s struggles? Not wanting the love of money to turn me into someone who looks the other way?
June: Can’t talk. Need to stay focused on my terminally ill grandmother
“Shit …” I smack my phone face down on the counter and sigh.
I don’t need emojis to tell me she’s pissed.
I hop off the barstool and pace the room. Then I grab my phone and call Monroe.
“What’s up?” he answers.
There’s clinking and grinding noises in the background. Typical sounds in an auto repair shop.
“I think I should just say ‘fuck it,’ and be a rich asshole. I don’t know if there’s a heaven, but I bet a few rich people get in if there is. So what’s the point, ya know? What’s the point of keeping a level head if I can just pick a charity to Venmo a few thousand bucks to every month from my yacht? Where is the alternative getting me in life? I’ll tell you, nowhere. I just keep sticking my foot in my mouth which makes me look and feel like an asshole, so if I’m going to be an asshole either way, why not be a rich one?”
“Well,” he chuckles, “first, I’m working. Second, that’s a lot to unpack. Third, it must be nice to have the option to be rich or stay poor. I would choose rich seven days a week. So judge me all you want, but I don’t know why you think being poor is some ethical choice poor people are making. And if being rich is so awful, why are you still working for rich people? Go to jail. Hang out with your tribe of poor criminals. You already sound stuck-up and entitled by calling me at work to rant about your dilemma that everyone else would love to have. And I say all of this with the most love possible. Okay?”