Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 101348 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101348 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Bitterness clings to my tongue as I force my gaze to the stairs, refocusing my vision. It’s just a house. This space can’t hold any power over me. None of them can hold any power over me.
My fingers curl around the Mace I brought with me, and I weave through the crowd, keeping my head down and focused. Luckily for me, everybody is already drunk, and they are more engrossed in the current shenanigans than me. But when I bump into Alexa, she looks horrified to see me here. Before I can even say hello, she immediately turns and scurries off as if her life depends on it.
Alright then.
Chalking it up to her following Audrey’s schoolwide ban on speaking to me, I continue my path up the stairs. My hand grips the banister so hard I could swear it splinters when the guest room door comes into view. I’m grateful it’s closed and I can’t see inside. I won’t go in there, no matter what. I’ll never go in there again.
I venture a little farther down the hall where a crowd is gathered around a cracked door to another guest room. Finding a place at the back of the onlookers, I try to see what’s going on, but I’m too short. Regardless, my ears work just fine, and it’s impossible to miss the whispers and choked laughter.
“Dude, that’s his mom!”
“Holy shit, look at her go. She’s sucking him off like a freaking Hoover.”
“I heard she charged him two hundred bucks.”
“I wonder if she’ll let me have a turn next.”
I wiggle my way around people until I find a tiny gap to peer through, and that’s when I see what everybody’s talking about. There’s a middle-aged woman I don’t recognize going to town on Andrew Crawley’s crotch. I’m not sure what’s more disgusting—Audrey’s public blow job or this one. The slurping is painfully loud, even over the music and laughter.
Double gross.
My stomach sours as something occurs to me. Glancing around at some of the bystanders, I notice one of the stoners from my biology class.
“Whose mom is that?” I ask, referencing the comment I heard earlier.
“Dude, that’s Landon’s mom.” He snorts. “Fucking demented, right?”
What. The. Actual. Hell.
That is Landon’s mother? She looks so haggard and thin. Like she’s been on one long-ass binge with a rock group who hasn’t slept for the past two decades. Everything starts to make sense now. He never talks about her. I’ve never seen her. Now I understand why. This would be humiliating for even the most well-adjusted person, but I have a feeling it might just be the icing on the cake for Landon.
I need to find him. I don’t know why, but I just need to see that he’s okay.
Moving farther down the hall, I navigate past all the drunken laughter until the walls open up into the familiar sitting area. And there, on the sofa behind a bunch of topless girls, is Landon.
His large frame is sunken into the cushions, eyes vacant as he watches the girls dance for him and his football buddies. One of them, a cheerleader, is curled up beside him, stroking his arm beneath her fingers.
It really fucking smarts. I didn’t expect it to hurt so much, but it’s hard to breathe when I look at him right now. It would be impossible not to notice the scratches down his neck. There’s a drink in his hand, and an empty bottle of vodka on the couch. So much for not drinking, I guess.
I thought I braced myself for this, but how do you prepare for a tidal wave? It still feels like a hot knife to the hungry organ in my chest demanding all his attention. I can’t believe I could have ever been so stupid.
His gaze collides with mine, and we stare at each other, silent for the longest pause. Everyone else turns to stare at me too.
“Hey, isn’t that the chick you and Carson double-teamed?” The cheerleader wrinkles her nose in my direction.
“Hey, aren’t you the chick who’s been with every guy on the football team?” I retort.
“Landon!” she whines, shoving his arm. “Are you going to let her talk to me like that?”
He doesn’t even seem to hear her. His eyes haven’t moved from me, and it’s clear he’s out of it. For a moment, he’s still that same tortured boy I met on his doorstep two years ago. Only now, he isn’t just tortured. He’s broken too.
My breath catches. I should just go. I don’t even know why I’m still standing here. I’m humiliated and confused, and I really do hate him. I hate him. Maybe if I keep saying it, I’ll believe it. Because right now, the only thing I feel is pain.
“My sea and sky,” Landon murmurs as his hand dangles in the air between us. “What are you doing here?”