Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 121210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Grandma Rose tried to convince her to stay in Red Bridge; she even tried to fight for custody of Norah and me, but Eleanor was determined to take us with her. Only a few weeks after my dad passed away, we left Red Bridge and headed to New York like thieves in the night.
Norah finally breaks down, multiple tears falling and her whole body starting to shake.
“Josie, I know we have a lot to talk through. I know there are a lot of unsaid things that need to be said and apologies to be made. But I’ve just had the worst week of my life, and I have nowhere else to go. Do you think you could find it in you to show me some temporary compassion and let me come inside?”
My whole body locks on what it might mean to let her in—all the ways that it’ll turn my carefully crafted life upside down.
“You know if Grandma Rose were still alive, she’d let me come in.”
“You play dirty,” I admit on a sigh, even knowing that Grandma Rose would have fucking loved Norah’s ruthless, self-serving move. “Fine.”
Relief floods her face. “Thank you.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter, rolling my eyes and stepping back from the door. And I thought Randy was going to be a pain in my ass. He would’ve been a hell of a lot easier than this. “You can stay here, but don’t think I’m agreeing to this being some kind of permanent roommate situation,” I say, heading down the hall and back toward the kitchen.
She drags her dusty suitcase up over the threshold and follows me inside, and I get down to protecting myself again.
She may be here, but that doesn’t mean I can’t ignore her.
Ignoring the people I love is what I do best.
17
Josie
Sunday, August 1st
Norah is still asleep when I leave the house on Sunday morning, destination not entirely known. I’m a ten-pound lump of feelings in a five-pound bag in that tiny house with her, and for the good of both of us, I figure I should take some space when I can.
When I left New York fourteen years ago, at the legal adult age of eighteen, I did so knowing it would be at least a little at the expense of my sister. My mom is cunning and conniving enough to control the narrative how she wants, and Norah was still young enough that it would have been hard to fight amid all the glitz and glam of the uberwealthy life my mother was hell-bent on getting the day she moved us out of Red Bridge shortly after our father passed away.
I dreamed Norah would find a way out—that she would use all the knowledge I’d given her and the fight Grandma Rose and our dad put into our DNA—and break free, but I have to admit, I never saw her showing up on my doorstep yesterday coming.
I pull into one of the spaces in Earl’s Grocery’s parking lot and cut the engine, climbing out of my SUV with extra care as my bare legs stick to the hot leather and rip away in a painful peel. I grab my purse off the front seat and slam my door shut, hustling across the already steaming black pavement and gliding through the automatic front doors.
It’s pretty quiet in here, thankfully, since most of the town is still at church, and I have a clear line to the produce section to find what I’m looking for. Normally, I’d go for something a little fancier than grocery store flowers, but since Fran’s is closed on Sundays, I’m willing to take what I can get.
I look carefully through the bucket of carnations and then the roses, and I finally settle on a nice bouquet of Gerbera daisies in varying sizes and colors.
I turn to leave and then go back again, looking for another two bouquets. I wish more than anything I didn’t need so many.
Holding them close to my chest and moving through the store, I step up to the only register that’s open. It’s being staffed by lanky teenager Lance, which is pretty much the worst-case scenario, but I’m not surprised since Earl is an every-Sunday churchgoer.
“Hey, Lance,” I greet, smiling slightly as I set the three bouquets on the conveyor belt and step up to the credit card machine. He jerks up his chin in hello but doesn’t make any move to start scanning.
I clear my throat, and he raises his eyebrows at me. A silent, “What the hell do you want?” gesture.
The sigh that leaves my lungs is audible. “You have to scan them in for me to be able to pay.”
“Oh,” he says matter-of-factly. “Solid.”
I stand there for another fifteen seconds without him moving, and my patience completely evaporates. “Lance!”
He startles and nods then, grabbing a bouquet by the top of the flowers like a complete heathen and slides it across the scanner.