Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 103754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
A few blocks from where I exit, I pull on the door that opens because the maintenance man still hasn’t fixed it since my last visit six months ago on my mom’s birthday. The entrance is dark, and when standing here, I can hear fighting on the other side of apartment one’s front door. I walk down the hall to the back of the building and stand just behind the stairs to take a breath before knocking on the door that’s hidden there.
I hear a man’s voice before the door opens. A boyfriend that I didn’t even know would still be around peers through the crack over the rusted chain. The door closes before muffled words are exchanged. I hear my name, and then the chain is released. When the door opens again, it swings open like no one was ever on the other side. The invitation rings hollow as I’m left to decide whether to go inside or stay where I’m at.
Stepping forward, a football game is on loudly in the small living room off to the left, but John’s hearing wasn’t good, from what I remember. The scent of something cooking hits my nostrils, stirring my hunger, and has me wondering why I wasn’t invited over. Does my mom not realize that I’m sitting alone on the holidays because I didn’t feel I had a home outside the one I had to create on my own?
Do I give her the benefit of the doubt that she isn’t aware that I’m working sixty hours plus on school breaks to make ends meet? Christmas dinner was the last thing I had time to plan, much less go shopping for, with the schedule I’ve been working. Hoping for scraps left over from rich people’s parties was a fucking highlight of a shift. So to stand outside my mom’s apartment knowing she’s cooking dinner for a guy she’s dating over her own fucking son leaves me feeling as empty as Sosie has all day.
I set the flowers and the candy on the pilling red rug in front of her door and walk away. I was stupid for coming here in the first place. If she really wanted to see me, she would have made the effort or invited me to dinner. Instead, she sent me a guilt text earlier in the week saying she never gets to see me and a lame Merry Christmas today.
That’s fucking it.
I push through the main door, landing back with my boots in the slush that’s gathered at the stoop. Shoving my hands in my pockets, I start walking. I knew this was a mistake. My gut told me not to come. Not alone anyway.
What was I thinking?
I was thinking I might have an ally at my side if Sosie had stayed. But would I have really wanted to expose someone like her to the life I’m trying to escape? No.
She was wise not to return. Otherwise, taking her would have been the second major mistake I would have made. I just round the corner when I hear my mom call, “Keats?” And then I hear nothing on the quiet street I’ve turned onto and take a deep breath.
“I’m so stupid,” I utter, the air fogging in front of my face as I lower my head, trying to reckon with my bad mood. My reality is that some old wounds just aren’t meant to heal. I don’t know why I keep thinking they will.
I should take my bad mood home, but I came out for a reason. Visiting my mom was the detour I shouldn’t have taken. There’s no turning back. I’ve always been too determined for my own good. Despite my gut telling me this might not be a good idea, it’s all-or-nothing. I’ll put my heart on the line in hopes she wants to see her Poet because the only thing that feels right is seeing my Spark again.
CHAPTER 11
KEATS
My pace is steady until I’m close to the Stansbury mansion. One block up, the lamppost where I almost got arrested comes into view. I laugh and walk faster. Hope isn’t something that I’ve felt much lately, but it’s ballooning in my chest like it lives there. I’m already envisioning my Spark bounding out of the house, wrapping her arms around me and kissing me like we were always meant to be.
It’s not been a great day, but she’ll be the highlight. I charge ahead, not able to wait any longer to hold her in my arms again. I stop just shy of the light from the lamp hitting my feet. “Breathe, Keats.” I laugh. I’m acting like a fifteen-year-old going on his first date. But when I give myself more than a second to think clearly, I’m not surprised. Not only did I not see this girl coming, barging into my life like it’s hers for the taking, but she already has me wrapped around her finger.