Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 73250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
I assumed Tor would take the head of the table, but when I took the seat to one side of it, he surprised me by choosing to take the chair beside mine. This left Ella opposite us and, in true Ella fashion, she didn’t hesitate to hit the ball right off the bat. “Is it true, what Zio Danny said?”
The question was directed at me so it made sense that I answer it. “I-” I started, but stopped to think about my response. Yes. No. I don’t know. It’s not what you think. I turned to him with raised brows.
How did we broach this?
But Tor didn’t hesitate with his daughter. He offered a resolute, “Yes.”
“What?” Ella’s shock was worn so openly, it made me want to get up and go to her, but my place was beside my husband. In this, we needed to appear as a team. United. The way she shook her head in disbelief was gut-wrenching, especially when she accused, “You said you weren’t one of the bad guys.” Oh, honey. She looked so betrayed. “I believed you.”
I remained quiet, a bystander offering silent support to the man who both stole my father, and then my heart.
From the corner of my eye, I saw him inhale deeply and exhale slowly before he said, “It was an accident.”
But Ella wasn’t buying it. “No. No, I don’t believe that. You always told me you don’t aim unless you’re willing to shoot.” She got increasingly angry as she went on. “You said you’re a good shot.” Her voice rose. “That you never miss.” Her brows furrowed when she cried out, “Why are you lying to me?”
Tor closed his eyes and I felt the pain radiate off of him, like crashing waves in a turbulent ocean.
It was time to speak and when I did, I did it softly. “Your dad isn’t a bad man, Ella. He isn’t lying to you. It was an accident. It’s just… sometimes situations are complicated. This is one of those situations.”
This girl who had experienced so much hurt in her young life seemed torn. She wanted to believe me, anyone could see that, and when she glanced at her father, then down to where I had placed my hand over his, her face crumbled and she asked a shaky, “Is that why you shot him?”
I looked at my husband. He squeezed my fingers. I turned back to Ella and said quietly, “Yes.”
Ella’s shoulders shook as she began to cry. Tears streamed down her face and her voice croaked when she said, “I hated you.” She swiped at her face and tried again. “I hated you for what you did.” Her breathing hitched when she turned her wet lashes to her father. “But you deserved it.”
My heart clenched painfully at the thought of Tor hearing these words from his precious daughter. I wasn’t going to sit here and stay quiet. “That’s not fair,” I told her. “Ella, your dad and I have both done horrible things to each other. Terrible, horrible, really bad things. But that doesn’t make us bad people. It makes us human.”
Her view of her father had changed. It was obvious her little heart was breaking. “I don’t want to hear any more.” She slipped out of her seat and attempted to flee.
Tor remained silent and seated. I blinked at him, then at her, and next thing I knew I was standing. “Ella, stop. Let’s talk about this.”
“I don’t want to talk. You’re an idiot and so is he.”
She wasn’t getting away that easily. I was hot on her heels. “You can say what you want about me. I’ll take it and keep my mouth shut, but I’m asking you to listen to me for a minute.”
Ella really was her father’s daughter. She proved that when all she offered back was a cool, “No.”
The thing was, she wasn’t the only one changed by all this, and I don’t know what possessed me – maybe fear or sheer desperation – but what I said next had her stopping in her tracks. “Yeah, well, tough shit, missy, because here it is.” I reached out and curled my fingers around her upper arms, making damn well certain she couldn’t escape me and then I looked her dead in the eyes and began to tell her a story. “I had a father too and I loved him very much. And one day, he and I got into it. We had a fight. A big one. I said some things to him that day, things I didn’t mean. Things I swore to take back the next morning after we’d both slept it off.” My throat tightened. “But I never got the chance because he died that night.” My fingers flexed and I struggled to say, “I will never get to apologize. I will never hug him again, or mess around with him, or roll my eyes at how lame he could be. And, God help me,” the brief laughter that left me hurt coming out, “he was lame.”