All Our Broken Pieces by L.D. Crichton

Author:L.D. Crichton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Disney Book Group
Published: 2019-05-06T16:00:00+00:00

“AND THEN YOU CAME TO PULL ME UP, MY

SWEETEST LITTLE SIN, IT’S HARD TO SEE THE PART

OF ME, THAT ENDS WHERE YOU BEGIN.”

Fire to Dust, Life-Defining Moments EP, “My Sweetest Sin”

I WALK THROUGH THE PATIO door and spot Macy seated at the kitchen table. She’s reading a book, a lemonade on a coaster in front of her. The coolness of the liquid and humidity from the house have produced small droplets of water on the surface of her glass. She glances up when she hears me before she looks back down at her book and says, “Fresh lemon—” She stops, her gaze snapping up at me from the pages. “Where’s your hoodie?” In seconds she’s on her feet. “What happened?”

I can’t answer her because I don’t know.

“Are you okay?” Her hand trembles, as if she wants to reach out and touch my face like our mom does. Macy never has, but I’d probably let her if she tried.

“I took it off,” I tell her. “To prove a point.”

“To prove what point?”

I look at my sister, more serious than I ever have in my entire life. “That I’ll do anything for her, I guess.”

“Are you in love with the girl next door?”

“You know something, Mae? I’m beginning to think I am.”

As I leave a shocked Macy behind, it hits me. I realized it a while ago. I’m in love with the girl next door. How utterly clichéd. I climb the stairs two at a time until I get to my room. I lie across my bed and rake my hands through my hair.

What the fuck happened today? Why did I do that? Their gazes burned into me exactly like the flames of the fire that gave them a reason to stare. Hushed whispers told a thousand different stories inside their heads of my untimely transformation into a monster. And for the first time in my entire life, I didn’t care. The snickers, the whispers, the smirks, they didn’t bother me, because Lennon knows I’m not a monster. That’s the only thing that mattered. It’s the only thing that matters.

I’m not sure how I let that happen.

But I’m sure I have to tell her.

Later that night, I’m in the tree house. The window to the guest bedroom has been dark and I’m growing impatient, waiting to hear from her. I text her.

Come to the tree house.

It only takes a few moments for her to respond.

Now?

Now. Yes.

Why?

Because I need to see you, Lennon. Deep thoughts. That’s why.

I’ll be there in five.

You’ll be here in like 4 minutes and 37 seconds. Not sure who you’re kidding.

She doesn’t reply, so I set my phone on the mattress beside me and close my eyes. I keep them closed while I hear her scale the ladder, and when she comes in and spins around, her arms make fast work of the rope attached to the tree house’s pulley. It reaches the top, and she grabs a basket from it as I open my eyes. She turns to face me, grinning.

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