Contents (85)
- Contents
- Part I
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Part II
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Part III
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Sixty-Two
- Sixty-Three
- Sixty-Four
- Sixty-Five
- Sixty-Six
- Sixty-Seven
- Sixty-Eight
- Sixty-Nine
- Seventy
- Seventy-One
- Seventy-Two
- One
- Two
- Reading Group Guide
- A Conversation with the Author
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
I don’t know how much time passes. An eternity in minutes. At last, I pull my hands down and look at Alec through burning eyes.
“Can we get out of here?” I ask.
He nods.
Thirty-Six
We’re sitting in the front seat of his car, engine on, heat blowing, seat warmers blazing, going nowhere. When we left Rust, he started driving, and when he asked where to, I said nowhere, followed by anywhere. So we’re cruising gently through the night, up and down the streets of Bury, like cops on a patrol. He isn’t asking questions. He isn’t trying to give advice. Alec is silent, just being the person I need him to be in this moment.
Ten minutes pass. I wipe my eyes again and break the silence.
“I could hurt someone if I had to.”
He glances over. “’Scuse me?”
I stare directly out the windshield, watching the headlight beams sweep the empty residential street in front of us.
“You held my hands and said you didn’t think I could hurt anyone. But you don’t know me. You don’t know what I’m capable of doing.”
He takes this in for a moment. “And why would you have to? Hurt someone, I mean.”
“If I felt threatened. Or if I had to protect Max. Or both.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
A thousand reasons swirl in my head. “Because I was always the little girl,” I say. “The runt no one paid attention to, the plain Jane living in the shadow of her cover-girl sister. The girl who left town, married someone she realized she didn’t love, and couldn’t find the strength to leave her husband as soon as she found out he was cheating on her. Looking from the outside, I look so weak.” I turn to him, watching his silhouette glow and dissolve in the passing streetlight. “But I’m not weak. I don’t know why that’s so important for you to understand, but it is. I’m not weak.”
“I believe you. And you never seemed weak to me.”
“Thank you.”
“And you’re not a runt. Also, you’re much better looking than your sister.”
He sounds sincere, but I don’t even really care if he’s not. This is the first time in my life anyone told me I was better looking than Cora, and I’ll soak in the warmth of those words for however long they radiate.
“I’m not saying these things to fish for compliments,” I say.
“And I’m not saying anything that isn’t true.”
“Just because I’m not weak doesn’t mean I don’t have faults. I’ve got history.”
“Everyone has a history. Good and bad.”
An easy answer, I think. Yes, everyone has a history, but I doubt he has a history like mine.
“I suppose,” I say.
He glances over. “So what, then?”
“What do you mean?”
“Fault-wise. You say you have faults. What’s your worst fault? If you want to talk, let’s talk. Tell me what you think your worst fault is.”
My mind rushes back to the evening after the book club in my father’s study. The smell of cigar smoke and taste of whiskey. My father asked me what my vices were, and now Alec is asking me my worst faults.