Chapters (55)
- TITLE PAGE
- TABLE OF CONTENTS
- PRAISE FOR K. BROMBERG
- ALSO BY K. BROMBERG
- COPYRIGHT
- PROLOGUE
- CHAPTER ONE
- CHAPTER TWO
- CHAPTER THREE
- CHAPTER FOUR
- CHAPTER FIVE
- CHAPTER SIX
- CHAPTER SEVEN
- CHAPTER EIGHT
- CHAPTER NINE
- CHAPTER TEN
- CHAPTER ELEVEN
- CHAPTER TWELVE
- CHAPTER THIRTEEN
- CHAPTER FOURTEEN
- CHAPTER FIFTEEN
- CHAPTER SIXTEEN
- CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
- CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
- CHAPTER NINETEEN
- CHAPTER TWENTY
- CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
- CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
- CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
- CHAPTER THIRTY
- CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
- CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
- CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
- CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
- CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
- CHAPTER FORTY
- CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
- CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
- CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
- CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
- EPILOGUE
- EPILOGUE
- COMING SOON
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
But then I find myself looking at plates with a Sharpie in hand and too many things I want to write and let go of. I take the first plate and write Mom. She’s the one thing I’m most angry at. Not her, of course, but that she was taken away from me and missed out on so much of the important things in life. Then I write Finn. He is my ex—the man I first let in, who cheated on me—a man who strangely hurt me deeply. And then when the siren warns that we only have a minute left to prepare to rage, I write on two more plates. The first is “time,” because my time here with Gunner is running out when I don’t want it to be.
And for the last one, I write my name. Chase. Because I hate myself for deceiving Gunner . . . and for knowing that when I leave Destiny Falls it has to be like I was never here. Like I never existed. It’s not like I can give him my address and tell him to come and visit me. It’s not like he can ever know who I really am.
So I write my name down because I hate myself for deceiving him, and I hate myself even more for not allowing this to be anything more than it is.
“You good?” Gunner asks as he glances over at my stack of plates and probably mistakes the tears welling in my eyes to be over the loss of my mother. They’re equally for knowing I’m going to lose him too.
I nod and force a smile, still thinking this is a little silly. “I’m ready.”
The siren sounds and Gunner picks up his first plate and throws it against the wall as hard as he can. It shatters into a million fragments, the sound of it breaking just above the fray of Jagger singing about how he can’t get any satisfaction.
I take my first plate in my hand and follow suit. There’s something to be said about the crunch of glass and the exertion you’ve given to make that happen.
It’s satisfying. Cathartic. And with each item thrown, each smash of the hammer against the computer monitor, every swing of the bat against the metal barrels, I feel parts of myself unwind.
Is this going to fix the brain aneurysm that took my mom from me, the fact that she’s gone, and how she missed all the milestones in my life? No, but it feels damn good to be thinking about it and angry over it while I’m swinging the bat as hard as I can.