Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 59738 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59738 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
I want to make my wife happy and give her a life she deserves. Not just because it’s the right thing to do, but because every time I look at her, I don’t want to stop. Right now, the uncertainty of our situation is written in her eyes. But one day, if we make it through this, it might be something else reflected back at me. All of that’s going to take time, but we’ll never get there if we don’t build a foundation of honesty. Maybe it’s a mistake on my part, but I decide to give her the same honesty she offered me.
“You can’t meet Brady because he’s passed on.”
“Oh.” She bows her head and folds her hands together. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize.”
There’s a beat of silence that I’m grateful for until she speaks again.
“Can I ask what happened to him?”
“He got tangled up with the wrong crowd,” I answer. “The kid was young, still looking for his place in the world. Thought he could find it with a bunch of piss ass fuckers who like to call themselves gangsters. But things went south, and they killed him.”
Ivy swallows hard and I wonder if Brady’s story leaves a bitter taste in her mouth, considering her own. “That’s really awful.”
“Aye, it was.”
“I’ve heard that it helps,” she says in a gentle tone. “If you talk about them.”
That’s the most ridiculous shite I’ve ever heard. But when I see the genuine curiosity in her eyes, something shifts inside of me, breaking apart the fortress I’ve kept around Brady’s memory these last few years. I can hardly understand what’s happening myself when the words start coming out of my mouth.
“He was a good lad. A little shy, a lot goofy. He didn’t have a lot of friends. Didn’t know how to put himself out there, I guess. But I didn’t think it bothered him too much. His nose was always stuck in a book. I couldn’t understand it myself, but the kid loved to read. And when he wasn’t doing that, he was helping out the neighbors. Not for money, but just because he thought it was the right thing to do. He’d help them with their groceries, trim their lawns, whatever needed doing, he would get after it.”
“He sounds like a good kid.” Ivy smiles. “How old was he?”
“Only sixteen when he died. I suppose he was at that age where he was trying to figure things out for himself and decided he wanted to prove something. My Pop drilled it into Brady’s head he was too soft. It didn’t make a difference how much I told him otherwise, there was no getting rid of that notion.”
“It sounds like you two were close,” she observes.
“Aye, we were. I took care of him. Practically reared the lad meself. We didn’t have much in this world, but we had each other. My Pop took his last breath in prison, and Ma made a quick exit with a needle in her arm.”
“I’m sorry,” she murmurs. “That had to be difficult for you.”
I don’t answer, but Ivy has the good sense to recognize I’ve said about all I want to on that subject.
“Is that why you were so sure I was on drugs?” she hedges. “Because of your mom?”
I don’t see the point in omitting anything else at this point. It’s a sore subject for me, but not for the reasons she thinks. “My ex was a junkie too. It’s just not something I have the patience to tolerate anymore. She would have sold her soul for her last fix, and in the end, she did.”
There’s a quiet understanding between us when she lets that statement rest without pushing it further.
“I’m not close with my family.” She lays her head back against the headrest. “They are very conservative. When they found out I was pregnant out of wedlock, they wanted nothing to do with me or Archer.”
Without giving it too much thought, I reach over and squeeze her knee. “It’s their loss.”
A dry laugh wheezes from her throat. “They’d have a coronary if they saw what my life was like now.”
“You mean married to the likes of me?”
Her eyes soften when she looks at me. “Just everything. The last couple years have been an epic failure on my part. They would be so ashamed of me.”
“It wasn’t your fault. You can’t control what other people do to you.”
Her head dips, and her voice is polluted with the unknown. “Do you think they’ll still try to come after me once they know I’m with you?”
“They won’t ever come after ye again, Twigs. I’ll make sure of it, even if it’s the last thing I do.”
Over the next two weeks, our lives fall into a comfortable pattern. Conor gets up long before the day begins and goes to work, leaving Archer and I to eat breakfast alone. After his morning preschool, we spend our afternoons together, playing and reading and treasuring every moment we’ve been given.