Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 146034 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 730(@200wpm)___ 584(@250wpm)___ 487(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 146034 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 730(@200wpm)___ 584(@250wpm)___ 487(@300wpm)
Exploring places we’d never been.
There was something about being outdoors here in Time River that was healing.
The fresh air.
The brisk rush of the raging river.
The open space that murmured of possibility.
The whole ride home, the cab was nothing but the chaos of their voices, each of them trying to talk over the other as they told me every minute detail of their day.
I kept glancing at them through the rearview, my spirit full, fucking loving it that they wanted to share everything with me.
It only took five minutes to be pulling up in the driveway of the modest house I’d spent the last year renovating. I’d needed something to do with my hands since sitting idle was the most dangerous thing I could do, doing my best to rein in the fury, to tamp the vengeance and the hate that kept threatening to spill out.
The way I hunted every goddamn day for any sign. For any evidence that had been missed. Constantly watching. Desperate to make up for every pitfall and mistake and betrayal that I’d cast.
My chest tightened as I glanced at my kids as I put the truck into park. Guilt constricted because I knew way down deep there wasn’t one goddamn thing I could do to make up for the treachery.
And while I’d never call it justice, I would ferret out those monsters, and I would make them pay.
I helped the kids out, tossing all three backpacks over my forearm before I let them in at the front door. They scrambled inside, footsteps pounding as they headed down the hall to their rooms.
Their excitement was palpable, and the realization that this place had become their home was a balm to my battered soul.
I set their backpacks on the floor next to the door. A smile tugged at my mouth when I saw my mother was in the kitchen.
No surprise since she basically flitted between our two houses. My childhood home was just on the next street over, which was one of the reasons I’d picked this house when I’d been looking.
Unease rolled through me when I thought about how she didn’t know that I’d be living here whether the tragedy had happened or not. Mom thought I’d bought this house out of grief, because I couldn’t live in the same house where Brianna and I had been raising our family, no clue that life had already fallen apart. That we’d suffered a collapse and there’d been no chance of rebuilding.
She’d loved Brianna so fucking much, like she was her own daughter, that I’d never had the heart to tell her the truth, but that didn’t mean that truth didn’t weigh on me like ten-thousand pounds of rubble.
Mom was bent in two at the oven and removing a casserole dish. The scent of red sauce and garlic filled the air.
“What do you think you’re doing, Mom?”
She sent me a smile as she set the hot dish on a pad. “Well, I am bored out of my mind now that the kids are back in school, so I figured I’d be of use and make my favorite people in the world something to eat.”
Gratitude expanded my chest. “You didn’t have to do that. You already do too much.”
She shrugged like she hadn’t basically saved my life over the last year and a half. “I wanted to. Besides, you were up all night and then had to go back in this afternoon. I don’t want you running yourself ragged.”
I’d come home after dropping off Savannah’s car and slept for a few hours, but I’d gotten a call that there’d been a break-in at the library overnight, likely some kids out destroying property for the fun of it, but I’d still wanted to take a look for myself.
“I don’t mind it so much, and you know I’m plenty capable of making dinner,” I told her.
“Are you trying to tell me you don’t like my cooking? Eating at Dakota’s café for half your meals has spoiled you. Like any of us could compare with what comes out of her oven.” Mom tsked the tease.
A chuckle rolled out as I ambled into the kitchen. I’d remodeled this place from top to bottom, and if I was telling the truth, I’d admit I was proud of it, and the kitchen was no exception. The cupboards were a sea blue and the countertops a white, cracked granite.
It felt both upscale yet easy to live in, and with three kids, that was what was important to me.
I moved to my mom and pecked a kiss to the crown of her graying head, which wasn’t hard to do considering she was about a foot shorter than me. “Not gonna lie, she’s pretty good, but no match to you.”
Mom patted my cheek. “Charmer.”
“Mean every word of it.”
She stirred the vegetables that simmered in a saucepan, her grin wry. “Like I said…charmer. You always knew how to get your way when it came to your mom.”