The Sound of Rain by Gregg Olsen Read Online (FREE)
Read The Sound of Rain (Nicole Foster Thriller #1) by Gregg Olsen full novell online for free here
I look at my sister and I want to laugh out loud. She stands in her kitchen pouring a really good chardonnay. Her wrists, like her ankles, are perfect. Her fingers slender and adorned with the Tiff—the rock on a platinum hoop that Cy “surprised” her with as an engagement ring a few years ago. I could have had a ring too. I could have had a husband. A child. In that order.
Now, I have nothing. Literally. Nothing.
“You can only stay here one night, Nicole,” Stacy says, holding the wine to the light and swirling it like she’s some fucking sommelier. A beautiful one. She’s light, with blond hair and sapphire eyes. I’m darker, with hair that I wish looked like hers in the sunlight. With eyes that are merely brown, not copper.
I’m sitting on a barstool in her kitchen while she hovers over me. “Right,” I tell Stacy. “One night. That’s all.”
“Just you. Not your dog. Shelby has to stay in your car.”
I hate her.
“That’s fine,” I say, though it really isn’t.
She finally offers me a glass of wine and I take it. I’d like to guzzle the whole bottle, take some pills, and forget that I’m grateful for all that she’s done for me. She’s like a praying mantis, clutching me in her arms and holding me tight while she eats my head and tells me that she’s doing all she can to “lift me up.”
“Stacy,” I say as we move out of the kitchen to her Room & Board walnut dining table, the light flashing on our glasses as the sun rides low in the sky, “I know I can beat this. I know I can get my shit together.”
Stacy lets my words hang in the air while she continues to swirl her wine. It’s a trick. She leaves the gap of silence for me to grovel. But I don’t fall for it.
“I hate to say this,” she says, “because I’ve never been about judging anyone. That’s not who I am. You know that, Nic; you above all others know that I’ve never, ever been one to judge.”
Such a liar.
“I know,” I say into my suddenly empty glass. “I know.”
“I’ve thought about it.” Her blue eyes roll over me before she looks away. “I think that enabling, you know, stalling the inevitable is only going to hurt your recovery. You needed to hit bottom. That’s what the books say. That’s what your counselor says.” She stops, sips.
I stay mute because I know her. She’s going to fire a full round at me.
“You’re still seeing her, aren’t you?”
I nod. Inside I ask God how it is that this woman in front of me, who has been my best friend since the day she was born, can be so fucking condescending.