Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 91937 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91937 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
“They cuffed him and put him in the back of the squad car,” he fills me in. “Wanted to take my phone out and take a picture of it to frame it”—he grins—“but then Wyatt would see it.”
My heart soars every time he thinks about Wyatt because he’s shown my son more love in the two weeks he’s known him than his father has his whole fucking life. My hand moves to his face, wanting to kiss his lips, but stopping when I hear my cell phone ring from my shorts pocket. “That should be Ryleigh.” I pull out the phone and see I was right.
“Hello.” I put the phone to my ear, not moving out of Brady’s arms.
“Hey,” she says, “just got word he was booked, and he’s refusing to do a breathalyzer test. He says he needs his lawyer. If they push it, he might sober up, but from the video I just saw that Casey emailed me, it’ll be hard to talk his way out of that one.” I close my eyes. “I’m going to be on the phone first thing tomorrow, asking for an expedited court date,” she tells me, and all I can do is listen to her words. “He’s not going to bother you, at least no more for tonight. I’ll find out more in the morning.”
“Thank you,” I whisper. “I’ll talk to you in the morning.” I disconnect the phone and look at Brady, about to take a deep breath when the sound of a car approaching has him go on alert.
He turns and walks to the door, pulling it open. I make the mistake of following him but then stop in my tracks when I see Winston’s mother there. Her hair is perfect even though it’s almost midnight, her makeup applied with expertise. The perfect Southern lady, except her face has a scowl on it and the leer in her eyes when she sees me standing behind Brady. “They said you were staying here, but I didn’t believe it.”
“There a reason you are here, lady?” Brady steps in front of her, blocking me from her view. Which just angers her even more.
“I’m not talking to you,” she hisses. Brady is about to slam the door in her face, but she walks past him to stand in front of me. The outfit she is wearing consists of a long, pleated satin skirt, a satin top, with a little jacket tied at the neck. “I’m talking to her.” She ignores Brady, who comes to stand beside me. “How could you do this to him?” she asks. “To us, after everything that we’ve done for you?”
“How could I do this to him?” I repeat her question, confused by it. “What exactly did I do to him? Leave him?”
“You know full well what you did to him.” She advances on me and stops when Brady moves closer to the side of me. “You were nothing when he met you, and now…” She eyes Brady up and down, the disgust written all over her face. “You’ve gone and shacked up with a man who is just like you.” She puts her shoulders back. “Nothing.”
I don’t know if it’s the night I’ve just had, or the fact she just walked into Brady’s home. A home he took me and my son into without even blinking an eye. And he had to do all of that because of her son. All of this because her son and, if truth be told, because of her actions. “Is that supposed to be an insult?” I ask, moving around Brady, but he grabs my hip to stop me from getting too close to her.
“Lower-class bar owner who deals alcohol. Whose brother-in-law’s family had to bail out before they went bankrupt.”
“I’d rather be nothing with him,” I finally say, pointing at Brady, who squeezes my hip, “than with your son, who really amounts to nothing without his dad and mommy in his corner.” She puts a hand to her throat as if I struck her. “In all of this, you would think maybe, just maybe, you might think of someone other than yourself.” I shake my head.
“You will get nothing from us.” Her face is red with anger.
“We’ll see about that.” I raise my eyebrows. “I have a pretty good lawyer now, who doesn’t care what my last name is, or what your last name is. All she cares about is what is right and what is wrong.”
“I don’t care who you think you have on your side. Things can always change,” she threatens me, her voice rising. Brady is the one who talks next.
“You will keep your goddamn voice down,” he hisses. “Not that you give a shit, but your grandson is upstairs sleeping,” he tells her, and her eyes go from his to the staircase.