Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75015 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75015 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
I think about how they used to lock me in the closet for hours. How they wouldn’t feed me and Zoey for a whole day as punishment. Or worse, how Pa slapped me if I made a simple mistake, like spilling milk (literally) or having a stain on my clothes when I came home from school.
Zoey thinks that made me OCD. I hate messes. I keep all of my things organized. I can’t stand a cup on the counter or a sink full of dishes. It needs to be taken care of immediately or I’ll lose my mind. Trauma does that to a person, I guess.
As far as snorting coke and stuff, it’s sporadic. I started doing it more with Lincoln. We’d go to his apartment, do a few lines, drink, then fuck. I swear it was the best sex of my life. Sometimes when I travel, I take a Xanax. It keeps me calm. But I’m not a druggy. Rose would say that I am, but that’s because she’s Miss Perfect. Nothing affects her. I’m not an addict and I think that counts for something.
There are people in the world who have succumbed to their bad drug habits. I haven’t. That’s what sets me apart from the rest. I may be a little fucked up in the head, but no one would ever know it. I’m good at pretending. Good at pleasing. I’ve had to be since I was a child. Why would I change that now?
CHAPTER TWELVE
“I don’t get why you’re even bothering with this.” Diana’s voice filled my car as I put on the turn signal.
I was thirty minutes away from Sage Hill. It was a two-and-a-half-hour drive in total.
Twyla wasn’t pleased to hear that I was leaving. This story about Robert Cowan was huge and they needed a final piece for publication, stat. I told her I’d have it completed and ready to turn in by deadline.
Since it was my turn to stay at the quaint cottage, it probably meant Eve was no longer there. However, she hadn’t returned home either. I went back to Eve’s place last night and her car still wasn’t in the designated spot, plus her townhome was vacant.
“I know, but Zoey is stressed out and her stress is stressing me out,” I said.
“Alright, tongue twister.” Diana laughed. “I mean you said it yourself, Rose. Eve is spontaneous. Honestly, sis, I’m surprised your friendship with her lasted as long as it did.”
“Yeah, me too,” I muttered. Diana was the only person I could turn to about my issue with Eve and Cole. “How’s Daddy?”
“He’s good. Wanna talk to him?”
“Please,” I said.
There was some rustling, then my daddy’s voice filled the car.
“Rosette, hey.” His voice was deep but friendly. Daddy was always fun, even when our mom died. It’d been eighteen years since my mother passed away in a fire. As tragic as it was, my father kept his chin up and his eyes bright. I recall him grieving deeply for about four days before finally pulling himself together. To this day I don’t know how he did it.
Perhaps it was taking a toll on him now, bottling all that emotion in for so long. Arthritis was eating away at different parts of his body. Sciatica was destroying his back. He had to retire from social work because his body couldn’t handle the physical demands of the job anymore. Now, he gives piano lessons and makes pretty decent money from it.
“Hi, Daddy. How you holdin’ up?” I asked.
“Better than ever now that Diana done made her good chicken.” He chuckled.
“It better not be fried chicken,” I playfully scolded.
“Uh-oh.”
I couldn’t help laughing as he did.
“Daddy, I told you to watch what you eat now. More greens, fruits, veggies. That’s what the doctor said.”
“I know. But one leg won’t hurt.”
I guess not.”
“Sounds like you’re driving. Traveling for another story?”
“You could say that.” I glanced at the rearview mirror. It was midday. The sun was starting to set. The closer I got to Sage Hill, the more my ears began to clog from the elevation. I flexed my jaw to make them pop.
“What’s this I hear about Eve not answering her phone?” he asked.
“Oh, it’s probably nothing. Just Eve being Eve.”
“How so?”
“She’s not answering her calls or texts. Me and Zoey have been trying to get in touch with her for a few days.”
“You sure she’s okay?” he asked, true concern lacing his voice. Daddy always had a soft spot for Eve. He saw her as one of his own. A daughter—a troubled one who needed love and guidance.
He was there for her a lot. He even bought her and Zoey clothes, shoes—whatever they needed when they couldn’t afford it. Even though they had their abuela for a few years, they may as well have lived with us. They spent the night almost every other day, ate dinner with us, watched movies. They especially enjoyed watching Daddy grill steaks when his tax refund money came in. He only ever bought steak around that time.