Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 81248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Fuuuuck. Do not cry in front of them, West. Do not fucking cry.
Tonight isn’t any different to any other night in the Dalton household, but for some reason, it’s getting to me. It’s like I can’t do anything right.
Dinner is unsalvageable, so I order pizza. Again. Carbs and protein. Healthy, right?
I manage to keep my shit together until the food arrives, but after that, I tell the kids to eat while I get some fresh air. I shove my feet in my boots and step out on our back deck and breathe in the freezing cold. I have a hoodie on but no coat, and the crisp snowy winter stings my face enough to dry the tears trying to escape.
It’s not that I don’t like my life. I do. I have hockey to keep me happy, and I love my siblings. They’re not a burden to me, but … they’re something I never asked for, and it’s an adjustment. At least, I hope it’s an adjustment. Though, after a year, I’m not so sure how much more adjusting can be done.
I’m good at being told what to do. Making decisions? That’s not me. Being in charge? There’s a reason I didn’t ever want the C on my jersey.
I’m not good at … this.
Yet every time I start to have these thoughts, I remember our parents are dead, and the guilt rams home.
“Ben! I wanted that slice! West!”
“I got it first!”
“Would you two stop arguing?” Zoe yells.
Their voices ring in my ears.
I shake my head. I can’t … I can’t do this.
You have to. That voice in the back of my head sounds a hell of a lot like Dad’s.
I stare at the sky as a single tear escapes. “I can’t. I’m sorry, Dad, but I really fucking can’t.”
My feet start moving of their own accord. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know the kids will be all right. They have Zoe, and Asher will hopefully be home soon. I just … I need to get away for a bit.
I take out my phone and text Zoe that I need to go out and that I’m sorry, but when she replies asking where I’m going, I realize I don’t even know myself.
But my feet do.
That’s how I find myself walking the five blocks to a certain charming cottage and knocking on the door.
When Jasper opens up with concern etched on his face, I force a smile, but he doesn’t buy it. “What’s wrong?”
My throat feels thick as I reply. “Everything.”
16
Jasper
I’m still in shock at West showing up out of the blue, but my concern overrides everything else. West brushes past and paces right to the middle of my living room before pausing.
“Shit,” he breathes, then starts shaking his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I’m—”
The click of the front door closing cuts off his words. “Sit down. Please.”
He drops onto my couch like he can’t hold himself up any longer. His elbows rest on his knees, and he covers his face with his hands, and I can’t get over how defeated he looks.
I stare at the top of his head for a moment, black hair shining under the light, before I force my nerves to calm down and move to sit next to him.
“Is everyone okay?”
“What?” He looks up, and it takes a moment for his eyes to focus on me. “Oh, yeah. They’re fine—well, as fine as a houseful of kids can be. It’s me.”
“Stressful night?”
“No more than usual, but for some reason it hit me harder than it normally does. I had to get away. And now I feel like shit for running off on them, but the thought of going back …” His words are edged with panic.
“Who’s with them now?”
“I left them with Zoe. She’s fifteen.”
“Will Zoe be okay with them for a while?”
“Asher should be home soon.” West covers his face and muffles a scream into his hands. “Sorry, I’m sure you’re probably freaked-out. I just had nowhere else to go.”
“I like that you came here.” A smile slips out that is totally inappropriate given the circumstances, but I can’t deny that I like seeing West. “But you don’t have any friends in the area from before you left?”
“Nope. Lost contact with them all while I was playing.”
I’m beginning to see West’s problem, but I hesitate on whether to mention it. It’s definitely not my place, considering we’ve had a grand total of a few conversations, a weekend away, and a night of hot sex. And yet … I want to help.
“You’re telling me you go to work, then go home to a full house and that’s it? What do you do for downtime?”
“What’s downtime?”
“That thing most regular people do to stop from getting overwhelmed. To stop this from happening.”
“Wow, you’re great with the pep talks.”