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)
It’s everything I ever wanted, and the relief I feel at having him home with me can’t be put into words. But I can’t deny there’s still a part of me that feels empty too. There are still so many uncertainties ahead of us.
From the moment Conor dropped us off at the house, he made it clear that we had rules to live by. We aren’t to leave unless he or one of the other guys is around to take us. He said it was to keep us safe, but I also wondered if he was afraid that we were going to leave him.
He hasn’t touched me since that day that we picked up Archer in New Hampshire. He left shortly after and has only been home for a few hours each night to sleep on the sofa. He insisted that I sleep in his bed and Archer has his own room set up down the hall. We have everything we need. A roof over our heads, food in our bellies, and we’re together again. But Conor’s absence is felt every day.
He warned me that his job keeps him busy, but I feel like this is something else. I feel like his absence is intentional, and I don’t know what to make of the cold front. I spend far too much time trying to make sense of him. I shouldn’t care what he’s doing or where he’s at, but the thought has crossed my mind that he’s at Sláinte entertaining himself with someone else. Perhaps that’s why he hasn’t touched me.
It doesn’t help matters that Archer asks about him several times throughout the day, wondering when he’s coming home. I specifically expressed my fears to Conor regarding my son, and a part of me hates him for that. If he never intended to be a presence in Archer’s life, then he should have never acted like he was.
Realistically, I know it’s not smart to let myself feel this way. Getting upset or trying to figure him out should be the last thing on my mind. What matters is my exit strategy. Since Conor forced me to quit the only job I had, I have no source of income other than what he offers me. He gave me a debit card as promised and insisted that I use it as much as I need.
I never had any intentions of being a kept woman. Regardless of what Conor says, I can’t bank on his promises or this marriage working out. So, even though I hate myself for it, I’ve been withdrawing small amounts of cash every time I go to the store to stash away for an emergency.
But for now, all I can do is sit on the sofa and stuff my face with ice cream until I figure out a better plan. Which is exactly what I’m doing when Conor walks in the door. When our eyes meet, I can tell right away that something isn’t right. He looks beat down and exhausted, but even worse is the blood on his shirt. The sight of it compels me to go to him without any further thought. It isn’t until I reach him, and my hands are on his body checking him for injury that I realize how silly it is.
Heat rushes up my neck when I look up and catch Conor staring at me.
“Are you okay?” I squeak. “What happened?”
“It’s nothing.” He cringes when I touch his arm. “Just a flesh wound.”
But it isn’t a flesh wound I find when I peel back his shirt to reveal the blood-soaked gauze. “Oh my God, Conor! Have you been shot?”
He winces again. “I’m fine. Just lay off of it, will ye?”
My trembling hands fall to my sides and he doesn’t miss it. He sighs and takes back the distance between us by tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. “I’m sorry. I’ve had very little sleep. It’s been a long couple of weeks.”
“Is it the Locos?” I ask.
Conor shakes his head. “No, I wish it was but it’s something else. Another issue we have to deal with.”
“You’re bleeding.” My fingers inch toward the wound again. “Will you at least let me help you get cleaned up?”
His eyes meet mine, and they are too damn pretty for such an ugly world. But it’s the reverence I find in the depths of those irises that fires right for my heart. It never really occurred to me until now that he doesn’t have anyone to take care of him either. And it hurts to think of him that way. Lonely and alone. He has his mafia brothers and his job, and that’s his whole life. But before we came along, this house was just an empty four walls where he came to sleep.
“Where do ye want me?” he asks.