Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 138642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
“Florida?” I frown. “What the hell’s there?”
“University of Miami,” she says triumphantly, flashing me a look. “I got a full-ride scholarship for my nursing degree. The letter came a few days ago.”
My chest goes cold.
I stare at her in disbelief.
It’s like my brain shrinks inside my skull as my world gets smaller and darker.
“Philia, you’re—you’re leaving Redhaven?”
“Um, yeah.” Thinning her lips, Ophelia glares at me. “You could try being happy for me, you know.”
“Congratulations,” I bite off. “Why the fuck you leaving? NC State ain’t good enough for you?”
“Why does it matter?” she flings back. “Christ, Grant, can’t you just... like, be nice about something for once?”
“You know damn well what I’m saying, Butterfly,” I snarl. “You and me, we’re the only ones still looking for him. Even your ma gave up and had that fancy headstone put up. And now you’re leaving? Fuck, you’re up and quitting just like that?”
I almost regret my words as she winces.
Almost.
Because that twisting dagger lodged in my chest can’t soften my words.
“I can’t live my whole life around Ethan!” she flares. She lights up when she’s mad, glowing like lightning, just vibrating from the inside out. “Do you think he’d want that, Grant? Do you think he’d really want me to put my whole life on hold to keep chasing him?”
“Somebody’s gotta. If it ain’t us, then fucking who?”
Dammit, I can’t stop how my voice rises.
My hand crushes the beer can till it dents inward with a loud screech and I drop it on the patio table. “Look, just ’cause he said not to look for him doesn’t fucking mean we shouldn’t.”
Ophelia starts to snap at me—then stops cold, drawing up short, staring with her eyes big and shining like marbles.
The color drains from her face until she’s as white as a sheet against the golden halo of her hair. “...what do you mean he said not to look for him?”
Fuck.
Me and my big mouth.
Sighing, I sink back into the chair like I’m trying to bury myself in it. The furniture creaks under me, and I close my eyes, steeling myself before I reach into my uniform blazer’s pocket and fish out a folded slip of tattered paper to pass over.
She takes it with shaking fingers.
Confusion knits her brow as she unfolds it and stares down at the handwriting scrawled across the paper, slowly reading it out loud.
“I knew you’d find me here. Don’t look for me, Grant. If you’ve found this, I’m already gone. There’s something I need to do, consequences be damned.” Her breath sucks in sharply and she presses her knuckles to her mouth. “This... this is Ethan’s handwriting, where did you...?”
“Stuffed inside that old copy of Where the Wild Things Are. Same one I used to read to y’all when we were kids,” I admit reluctantly. “He must’ve left it there ’cause he knew I’d take a while to look, and by then he’d be long gone if something went bad. I dug the book out since I was gonna give it to my aunt and uncle since they’re trying to have a baby and all. Figured they could read it to their kid—and that shit just fell right out.”
She works her lips, swallowing loudly. Her eyes glisten.
“So he... he really did leave us?”
“I don’t know. Don’t think so. That’s Ethan’s handwriting, all right, but—” I shake my head slowly. “Something feels off about this, Philia. I can’t believe he would’ve done that, ghosting us without a word. You know it, too. You fucking know. If he was fixing to run off with the girl of his dreams, he’d have let us know where to find him.”
“Wh-what are you saying?”
“There’s some kind of message there, I don’t—fuck, I don’t fucking know, okay? I know I sound batshit insane.”
“You sound like an asshole—as usual—but not crazy. Not at all.” Her voice is so weak, her head bowed. In the dark I can’t make out her face, but her thick voice tells me that she’s struggling not to cry. “Why’d you even show me this? Why’d you show me if you don’t know what it means?”
That dagger in my chest sinks deeper.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know fucking anything!” she throws back, and when she lifts her head, it’s not that she’s trying not to cry—it’s that she was hiding the tears coursing down her cheeks.
“Ophelia,” I try, but the words won’t come.
She glares at me for a breathless second—then chucks the letter right at me.
The air catches the cursed paper and sends it fluttering down on the table between us, this damning thing. “So you just... you’re going to throw that at me and bring up all these old memories for what? So I won’t leave? So I’ll keep chasing Ethan’s ghost instead of having a life?”
I almost rock back.
A shotgun burst to the heart wouldn’t have the same punch.