Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 119152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Mr. W – Miss you more this time around. You always told me to get off the wild ride before I miss my exit and pass up my opportunity for real life. Well, I wanted to tell you I finally took my turn down the rabbit hole. But I think you know this. That you’ve been up there guiding me. I think you would love her. I know she would have loved you. These days never get easier, but they do remind us what great times we had. Don’t worry, I’m still looking after Benny. He’s grumpy a lot, but I think someone’s about to change that. I’ll keep you posted. - Chase
I stand up and wipe at my wet cheeks.
“My friends are a bunch of girls, right?”
I laugh. “They sure are.” I turn to Mrs. Wallace. “How’re you doing?” My heart breaks at the sadness in her eyes. Tears well up, and she fights to hold her composure. She peers down at the tombstone. A few beats pass, then she picks her chin up to look at her son. Her lip quivers, and I bite down on my lower lip to hold in my emotions. I fear I opened the gate for her to hurt Ben more and say things that will damage all the progress he’s made the past twenty-four hours. I open my mouth to be the barrier he needs when she speaks.
“It doesn’t ever hurt any less. Whether it was yesterday or a lifetime ago. It still feels the same. My heart. It’s like someone is tearing it from my chest. I scream and scream, but nothing I do, no matter how much I beg, will make it stop. When I finally give in to reality, there’s nothing that can be done. I have to accept that he’s gone. And that feels like I’m drowning. Every day is a struggle for air.”
I snake my arm through Ben’s, feeling the tension in his body.
“And the worst part is. . .” she pauses, grabbing a tissue from her pocket and patting her nose, “anytime I find the strength to come up for air, I see him.” Her lashes lift as she peers over at Ben. “His perfect creation. That’s what he called you. He used to say if there was anything he had accomplished in life, no matter his successes, it was you. His son.”
Ben's arm remains rock solid in my grip.
“Sometimes, I’d wonder if he forgot about me. His world became consumed by his blue-eyed masterpiece. God, he had so many nicknames for you, I couldn’t keep up. And, boy, did he have your future planned out from the day I told him I was pregnant.” She has to stop to wipe at her tears. “You were his life. His legacy.”
“Why are you telling me this now?” Ben asks, his voice laced with pain. Confusion. Hurt.
I release his arm as she walks up to him. “Because, since you were born, you were his pride and joy. He wanted nothing more than to be this mentor for you. To show you how to be a man. How to grow strong. Become something unstoppable. As much as I wanted his life to revolve around me, it revolved around you.”
“Well, thanks for breaking down why you resent me.”
“Ben, it’s not resentment. It’s never been that. It’s about the guilt I harbor. I lost the man I’d loved since I understood what love was. I know I wasn’t who I should have been for you. But I was hurting too.” She chokes on a sob. “What I couldn’t fathom was disappointing the man I love from his grave. You came home. You gave up everything your father wanted for you. I told you to go back. I fought for you to find your future. But you insisted on staying.”
“I stayed because Dad would never have wanted you to hurt alone.”
“He would have never wanted you to give up your dreams. My pain was mine—not yours. Those were my demons—not yours.”
“Says the person who bashed every decision I made.”
She reaches out for Ben. “I’m not innocent in all this. I know that. I should have pushed you to go back to school, to move on with your football career. It was what your father wanted. But I was grieving. I was selfish, and I couldn’t see past my own pain. And when you joined the academy, all I could see was failure.”
“Thanks—”
“Not your failure, mine. I was left to make sure you went on. You blossomed and rose above. He held you to such high standards. His son was following his dreams and going to make it big one day. Then he died, and I allowed you to give that up. How do you think that made me feel?”
“It wasn’t your decision—”
“But it was my job. As a parent. As his wife. To fulfill his legacy. And I was hurting too bad to do that. I was too weak to stop you from joining the academy. And when it was too late, I just felt defeated. That if he was around to see the mess I’d made, he would resent me.”