Golden (Book 1 of the Golden Series)

Chapter 71

40 thoooooousand fucking votes - insane, unbelievable and I cried. Thank you so so much. Not only that but 740K reads too? and we hit 2,600 of us??? 

It's genuinely just getting crazier and crazier and I cannot express enough how much I appreciate you guys and everything you do for me! 

I LOVE YOU.

I'm just going to sit here and sip my tea while you read this chapter... yeah woops.

Apologies.

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CHAPTER 71

Surprisingly, this wasn't the most awkward car journey I'd experienced. 

After pretty much being frozen in shock at her kindness, I had jumped at Tracey's offer and the two of us raced to her car without another word. 

So far we hadn't said much to each other - the radio had been a nice alternative to trying to make small talk. 

Outside, I was beginning to lose track of how many forests we had driven through. I didn't recognise a single feature anymore and definitely could not pinpoint on a map where we were. We'd been driving for over an hour and my phone hadn't stopped ringing. 

When it vibrates for the hundredth time, I don't even glance at the name before switching it off completely and throwing it in the side door.

"Is there a reason you don't want your boyfriend coming along?" Tracey asks, her usual snideness still present but much less aggressive than usual, "Couldn't he take Matt out in like, one punch?"

I snort slightly at the image - she wasn't wrong. 

"I don't want anything to escalate, I need to make sure that my friends are alright," I pause, "I can't lose anyone else."

Tracey let's out a sound of boredom, a low one that drags out and when I look over at her she's rolling her eyes. 

"Even when someone else dies and I'm the one that should feel guilty, you still somehow make it about you," she laughs, "Typical, what more should I expect from 'perfect' Annabelle Williams."

I frown at her, "I mean it is my fault, Matt-"

"Nothing that Matt does is ever your fault, alright?" she butts in, her tone almost bored as she turns another corner and heads down another empty road, "If anything, you should be praising yourself. God knows how out of control he would be if you hadn't been dealing with him all these years."

It's strange - I think that's the first time she's ever not outrightly insulted me. 

"You shouldn't have to be dealing with him either," I reply after a moment, my voice soft, "As much as we don't get along, I would never wish anything like that on you. Or anyone."

Her hands tighten around the steering wheel in response, shoulders straightening as she glances over at me. 

"What's it like?" she asks, real curiosity in her voice, "To always be good?"

My confusion must show on my face because she rolls her eyes again and lets out another bark of forced laughter. 

"What do you mean?"

"Like that!" she half shouts, motioning over to me, "What's it like to have a moral compass that always points you in the right direction. What's it like to be so good naturally, to be born knowing how to be kind to people and  to always pick the right path?"