Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 81867 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81867 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
“Fuck,” he roars, stumbling back from me.
I don’t wait around, knowing that my only chance is to escape to a room with a lock on the door. I take off running but Joshua’s on me, his hand grabbing my bun and nearly jerking me backward off my feet. I cry out from the pain as he slings me around, slamming me into the side of a corner cabinet where I catch it full force on my temple.
I see stars but slap at him, trying to push him back. His hand is once again at my throat, this time squeezing so hard my immediate air supply disappears. My fingers claw at his arms, gouging skin with my nails to loosen his grip.
The mudroom door opens and through the ringing in my ears, I hear Joshua’s dad, Preston. “What’s going on?”
Stupid fucking question.
Joshua doesn’t spring back, embarrassed to be caught abusing me. He doesn’t even loosen his grip.
Instead, he calmly says, “Teaching this one a lesson.”
“You know I don’t like for you to do that in the open,” Preston admonishes. “That’s private between a man and a woman.”
I’m so oxygen deprived, my vision starts to dim. My ears feel like they’re stuffed with cotton, but I hear Preston say, “Let her go, son. I’m hungry and she needs to finish our dinner.”
“Fucking meatloaf,” Joshua says in disgust as he releases me. I bend over, coughing and gasping.
“Yeah?” Preston drawls. “Thought we were having pot roast to celebrate the new store?”
I swallow, wincing against the pain of my muscles contracting in my throat. Straightening, I step around Joshua, never taking my eyes off him should he again strike at me. I move to the potatoes to turn off the burner. They should be done.
Joshua sneers as he throws a thumb at me. “Dumb bitch stayed at the hospital all day. Ruined our dinner plans.”
I dart a glance at my father-in-law. He’s big and burly, not like his son’s thin frame. His eyes meet mine. “How’s Lila doing?”
You’d know if you went to visit, you piece of shit. But I can’t say that because I’m far too dependent on these two men.
“She was resting comfortably when I left,” I say, my words coming out in a harsh rasp.
Preston’s blank stare stays pinned on me before he nods to the oven. “Don’t let dinner burn. Call us when it’s ready.” He then turns his gaze on Joshua. “Let’s talk in my office.”
My husband doesn’t reply to his dad, merely moves over to the counter to grab his beer. He doesn’t even grace me with a glance of concern, mainly because he doesn’t care about me at all.
It’s not until both men are gone from the room and their voices dwindle behind the closed door of Preston’s office on the other side of the great room that a gush of air empties from my lungs. I have to put both hands on the counter to brace myself as my legs turn to jelly.
Tears well in my eyes and I don’t hold them back. A therapist I once saw told me not to repress my emotions but rather to acknowledge the pain within them. She told me that was the best way for me to garner the strength I needed to leave Joshua.
But she was so very wrong. No matter how much I hate him, I can never leave. At least not as long as my father lives.
CHAPTER 3
Callum
I hold the straw to my mom’s lips so she can take a few sips of the ice water. She attempted some chicken broth for her breakfast a bit ago, but her appetite is almost nonexistent. The nurse assured me that’s typical coming out of surgery and some people don’t tolerate anesthesia that well.
Her surgery was almost twenty-four hours ago and I can’t help but worry that her lack of appetite is a bad omen. What’s worse, I’m not just worried it’s a physical thing, but probably emotional as well.
When I arrived this morning, she was sleeping. When she woke up, her first words to me were, “Is Preston here?”
I had to be calm and reassuring. “No, not yet.”
Truth is, I had no idea if that asshole would show up. The nurse told me that the only visitor my mother had other than me was Juniper. I’m burning with rage that Preston can’t be bothered to check on his wife, especially given my suspicion that he might be responsible for her injury.
“Want to try something else to eat?” I ask her. “Maybe some scrambled eggs?”
My mom wrinkles her nose and gives a very slight shake of her head, which immediately causes her to wince in pain. “Maybe later.”
“You need food for energy,” I remind gently.
“I know,” she admits with a wan smile. No attempts to try, no assurances she’ll eat later. Just she knows she needs food and doesn’t want it.