Total pages in book: 52
Estimated words: 51744 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 259(@200wpm)___ 207(@250wpm)___ 172(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51744 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 259(@200wpm)___ 207(@250wpm)___ 172(@300wpm)
Miles doesn’t look like he has the same generous thoughts about the man. I don’t either. I can’t imagine pulling a gun on my own child. At least, I figure that’s how I’ll feel when I actually have a child, with Avery as the mother. Curt Hopkins should never have done that. But if thinking her father wasn’t all bad helps Sadie sleep better at night, I’m not going to argue.
She sighs. “I’d like to think that’s the case, anyway.”
“You never knew about the construction accident?” Carly asks her, wrapping her arm around Austin’s waist.
“Nope.” Sadie leans her head onto Miles’s shoulder. “It’s all news to me. I was only eight when my mom and dad divorced, and I didn’t see much of my father after that. I didn’t even know about his accident. And Joey…”
Miles kisses her cheek. “I’m sorry you lost your brother. So sorry. Do you want to have a memorial service for him?”
Sadie shakes her head. “I didn’t really know him. Not since I was a little girl. Sure, I have some fond memories. One time he took me sledding with the big boys. But no one around here knew him. We’ll give him a proper burial, but that’s it. I have my closure, Miles.”
“What about your mom?” Carly asks softly. “She might like to have a service.”
Sadie smiles. “She’s fine. I talked to her today. We’re just happy he’s at peace now.”
“Then I think it’s time for a toast.” Austin holds up his glass. “To our little brother, who, as it turns out, isn’t a criminal.”
I hold my glass and clink it to Austin’s and can’t help but smirk. “Funny.”
“You know,” Miles pipes in, “this has been one wild ride. Jonathan Bridger was a son of a bitch for sure, but damn, if not for him, I wouldn’t have met the love of my life.”
“Ditto.” Austin takes a sip of his wine and looks down lovingly at Carly.
I join in, clinking my glass to everyone else’s, but I can’t help the thought that hovers over me. If not for my father, Austin and Miles wouldn’t have met Carly and Sadie. That much is true.
But if not for my father, I never would have been separated from the love of my life.
Jonathan Bridger stole fifteen years from Avery and me, and I’m pissed off. Damned pissed off.
And the fucker’s dead, so I can’t even make him pay.
After dinner, when the fabulous foursome have excused themselves, I give Avery a call.
Hello, you’ve reached Special Agent Avery Marsh. I’m sorry I can’t take your call right now. Please leave me a detailed message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.
God, her voice. As if she’s standing right next to me.
I’d love to leave her a detailed message—all about what I’m going to do to her as soon as we’re in the same room together again…
But instead, I say, “Hi, kitten, it’s Chance. You were supposed to call me when you got home safely. I want to hear your voice before I go to bed tonight, so call me. I love you.”
Yeah, I said it. Just like I did all those years ago. I won’t stop now.
Then I head to my father’s office, let myself in, lock the door behind me, and sneak into his secret room once more.
The box with Linda Marsh’s name on it sits on the floor where I left it, still unopened. I lift the lid to see a stack of manila folders.
I grab the first one and open it.
A photo of Avery flutters out, and I pick it up.
And I remember the photo…and the conversation with my father it inspired.
I stand, hands in the pockets of my jeans, facing my father. He sits in his plush leather chair behind his massive oak desk. It’s his place of power.
This is the position I assume when he calls me to his office. My hands go into my pockets because I know how much he hates it. He thinks it looks disrespectful. Well, good. I don’t respect the fucker. He’s made my life hell.
“So this is the girl?” He slides a glossy photo across the desk toward me.
I pick it up, and a small smile spreads across my face. I can’t help it when I see her, even in a photo.
Avery Marsh. Gorgeous Avery Marsh. She smiles at me from the two-dimensional image, and it’s like she’s here, in front of me, her lips curving only for me. She’s wearing a blue angora sweater that matches her eyes, and her blond hair falls over her shoulders in those gorgeous waves. I know how they feel beneath my fingers. How soft those lips are when they meet mine.
“You going to answer me?”
“That’s Avery Marsh. Yes, she’s the one I’m dating.”
“Break it off.” The three words snap at me like a whip.