Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 108141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
“We’ll come back,” I promise her. “New York isn’t going anywhere.”
“I know.” Her lips purse together. “I just wish we could stay in this bubble forever. The funeral is going to be so sad, and I have to see my mom and dad.”
“I’ll be right there with you the entire time.”
When we pull into the driveway a couple hours later, Rosco pulls in after us.
“Was he following us the entire time?” Nevaeh asks, stepping out of the vehicle.
“Of course.” I take her hand in mine. “I’m not taking any chances until Logan and Felix are six feet under.”
Nevaeh flinches but doesn’t argue.
We walk into the house, and Rosco remains outside. As we’re heading to the stairs, my mom walks out of the kitchen. She’s wearing an apron—no, not an apron, her apron—and her hair is up in a tight ponytail. She’s several years older, but the way she looks reminds me so much of how she looked when I was growing up. She loved to cook, but she would always spill food on her clothes and then complain. So, one Christmas when I was younger, I went to the mall and bought her that apron. It’s engraved, “Best mom, best cook.”
“You’re back,” Mom says with a hesitant smile. We’ve barely spoken since she’s been back.
“I got a tattoo and my belly button pierced,” Nevaeh gushes, walking over to my mom and showing her.
“Wow, that’s beautiful,” Mom says, checking out the tattoo. “I was just finishing up dinner. Are you two hungry?”
Mom’s eyes meet mine, and even though Nevaeh and I already ate on the way home, I nod, not wanting to disappoint her. “Yeah, we could eat.”
Mom’s lips curve into a smile she would give me when I was a kid, and my heart pounds against my ribcage. It’s been twelve fucking years, and I want to be so pissed at her for leaving, but when she looks at me like that, she makes it damn hard. The truth is, I get why she left. I don’t agree with it, but I get it.
Nevaeh flashes me a knowing grin and adds, “I’m going to go put my clothes away and I’ll meet you guys in a few minutes.”
Once she’s gone, my mom says, “I really like her.”
“I do too.”
“Your dad is in his office if you want to go say hello. Dinner will be ready in a few minutes.”
Without thinking, I take a step forward and kiss her cheek. “I’m really glad you’re home, Mom. I’ve missed you.”
When I pull back, her eyes are filled with tears. “I shouldn’t have left. I should’ve fought for you… for my marriage.”
“I’ve spent the last twelve years dwelling on the past. It’s time we start focusing on the future. None of us can change what happened. You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”
After kissing her cheek once more, I head into my dad’s office.
“Son,” he says, looking up from his computer. “How was your trip?”
“Good.” I sit in the chair across from him. “Nevaeh loved seeing the city, but we had to come back because her brother’s funeral is tomorrow.”
Dad frowns. “Have you thought about what you want to do with that situation?”
“Yeah, I have.” While Nevaeh slept last night, I thought a lot about my options. What will be best for her, for us… and I’ve come to a conclusion. “I want to take them down.”
Dad nods. “You know I have your back. Always.”
“This looks horrible,” Nevaeh says, standing in front of the mirror, staring at the third dress she’s tried on. Her wardrobe is limited because I only grabbed a few things, so she’s freaking out.
“How about this?” my mom asks, stepping into the room and holding up a simple black dress.
Nevaeh eyes it and breathes a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank you.” She pulls my mom into a hug before grabbing the dress and disappearing into the bathroom.
“How are you doing?” Mom asks, once we’re alone.
“I’m okay…”
“Ethan, have you been to a funeral since—”
“No,” I say, cutting her off. “But today isn’t about me.” It’s because of me…
“I get that, but it still might be hard.”
Before I can respond, Nevaeh comes out. The dress my mom lent her fits perfectly. It starts off formfitting up top, then flares out slightly, hitting the tops of her knees. It’s cut low enough, her cleavage peeks out, and the straps are thin enough, her tattoo is perfectly on display. She’s wearing a pair of black heels and her creamy legs look sexy as fuck.
“You look beautiful,” my mom says. “I’m so sorry for your loss. If you need anything…”
“Thank you.” Nevaeh forces a smile. “I think I just need to get through the day. I’m hoping it will give me some closure. Help me move forward.”
I want to tell her it won’t—that the thing about losing a loved one is, you never fully get over it. In time you’ll learn to live with it, force it from your thoughts, but you’ll never completely move past it—but I don’t want to bring her down. So instead, I slide my arms around her waist and kiss her glossy lips, careful not to smear them.