Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 135847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
I asked Paul to help me crate the cats. He helped (and while he did, I didn’t allow myself to process the look on his face either), and he carried the crates while I shouldered my bag.
God bless him, he’d parked at the loading dock so there were no paparazzi to see my shameful exit.
We loaded up, I got in the back with my cats, and I was pretty damned proud of myself I held it together through Manhattan, over the bridge, to Dad’s.
Dad helped us get the cats in.
He called our neighbor to ask if she’d do the huge favor of running out to get some litter and trays.
He then made me coffee and sat down beside me at the kitchen table while I drank it.
I did this stoically.
It was when Frosty jumped into my lap that I lost it.
And with Frosty sticking close, and Dad’s arms going tight around me, I cried like a baby.
CHAPTER 26
NEVER DIE
Hale
Three days later…
They were shit at an intervention.
He knew they were there before he let himself in. Even though there was a four-car garage with only his Jeep in one, they hadn’t bothered to hide their vehicles.
It seemed like they’d lit every light in the house, so he could easily see Duncan standing at the windows, turning his way from watching the ocean, Genny sitting on a couch, a glass of rosé in her hand, staring at Hale as he walked in, Tom sitting in a chair, holding a highball of bourbon, swiveling his chair around to face Hale when he arrived.
Looking at them, he knew this was Tom’s idea, Genny was all in, and Duncan didn’t agree, but he was there all the same.
The box his dad left him was sitting on the coffee table.
Next to it was the double frame from the study, opened and pointed his way.
He stopped, dropped his bag, and before anyone said anything, he decreed, “We’re not doing this.”
“You broke up with her after she received forty-five stitches because of your stalker,” Tom retorted.
His neck was already so tight, he thought his head would snap off, but it didn’t matter.
That was a blow to the sternum.
And it made the vision of Elsa surface. The vision of her wearing her beautiful, blue, sequined dress, pain and fear in her eyes, blood all over her, sitting on a men’s room basin.
As he had hundreds of fucking times since he saw her that way, he forced that vision down.
He then took an uneven breath to get his wind back, and repeated, “We’re not doing this.”
“I get it,” Tom said. “I saw her in that bathroom with blood all over her. If I were you, that would gut me too. It would make me ask questions about how safe the ones I love are with me. It might make me do something totally, fucking stupid in an effort to keep them safe. So I get it.”
Hale knew when Tom got this way, when Genny did, he had no choice but to ride it out.
This was why he crossed his arms on his chest and settled in.
“However, once I had those thoughts,” Tom continued like Hale knew he would, “I’d look at the woman I loved, the woman who loved me, and I’d make note to rip my security a new one, and then I’d look after my woman.”
Hale turned his attention to Duncan. “Any chance you can get those two out of here?”
“I don’t agree about the box,” Duncan replied. “I think it should be your choice when you open it. I do agree with you getting your ass reamed about dumping Elsa. What were you thinking?”
Hale clenched his teeth.
“Sit down, Hale,” Genny ordered.
“Nope,” he denied. “Say what you gotta say and go.”
She tipped her head to the coffee table. “Where did that frame come from?”
She wanted to know?
“Dad was holding it when he shot himself.”
Her shoulders went up, her chest caved in, she looked to the side and down, and he saw the tears fill her eyes.
She loved his dad. He’d been a supreme dick to her, done the unforgiveable.
And she still loved his dad.
Hale felt like shit he put it out there like that, but they’d ambushed him, what did she expect?
“Open the box, Hale,” Tom ordered.
“You wanna open it so fucking bad, open it,” Hale offered.
Tom stood. “Who am I listening to? Who am I looking at? This is not my son.”
“You’re right,” Hale bit. “I’m not. You’re looking at Corey Szabo’s son, so don’t act fucking surprised.”
Tom didn’t miss a beat.
“Then I’ll repeat, who am I listening to? Who am I looking at? Because I always had your father’s respect, Gen always had your father’s love, so he’d be pissed as shit to see you standing there, speaking to us like this,” Tom spat. “Open the fucking box.”