Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84227 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84227 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
I put cuffs on my dad and took him to the cruiser. “Calm down. You’re not under arrest. I just need to see what happened,” I said as he fought me.
“Fuck you,” he spit out, and I pushed him into the back seat and closed the door.
“Sorry about that, kid,” Mr. Richards said. “I’m the one who called.”
“As you should have, and like I said, I don’t give a shit what he says about me.”
“He don’t need to be arrested. Just got a little out of hand. You know how he can get sometimes,” Wyman added.
I got the name and information of the man my father had been arguing with, but he didn’t want to press charges, nor did anyone else. As always, they let it go, let him get away with being a drunk who treated people like shit.
I didn’t have much choice except to take him home.
He didn’t spend the whole drive cursing at me that time. When I pulled up to the house, my stomach twisted. Just the sight of it made me feel like that helpless kid again.
I cursed as I killed the engine and got out of the car. I pulled my dad out, and as I unlocked the cuffs, I said, “You should get some help. I’ll take you. Get you sober.” He didn’t deserve that, but I’d do it. Hell, I’d even help pay for it if I could. It wasn’t like I had a lot.
“Fuck you,” he slurred and pulled away. “It’s your fault, you know that? It’s all your fault. We were fine until you came along. Then you made us miserable, chased her away, and I got stuck with you.”
His words punctured my already damaged heart. “I was your son!” I shouted, surprising myself. “I didn’t come along. You two had me. If you didn’t want me, you should have been more responsible. And I didn’t chase shit away. You did that all on your own.” I went for the cruiser door. “Get your shit together.”
“You think you’re so much better than me?” he shouted. “You’re not! You’re not Robert Caine’s son, you’re mine. You’re part of me, Chase. You’re no better than I am. I don’t care what job you have or if those perfect do-gooder motherfuckers took you in. You’re not a Caine, you’re a Hawthorne, no matter what you want, no matter if you think you’re better than me like he always did. One of these days your smug ass is going to get what’s coming to you like he did too.”
My blood went cold, and I saw nothing but red. “What did you say?” None of what he said about me mattered. Hell, most of what he said about Mr. Caine hadn’t either, but that last part, about getting what’s coming to him like they did—that mattered.
“You heard me. I wish I knew who did it. Would have thanked them,” he said. It took everything inside me not to hit him, not to take a lifetime of anger out on him, but he wasn’t worth it. Not worth my career. “Get the hell off my property.”
He turned and walked away, and I let him go. My hands were shaking when I got back to the cruiser. I’d always known my dad didn’t like Kellan and Griff’s family. They all grew up together in Havenwood, and like everyone here, they’d known each other their whole lives. But that anger right there? Saying they deserved to die? That sent a chill through me.
Vomit crawled up my throat and landed all over the gravel.
I never hated anyone as much as I hated him in that moment, and all I could think was, what if the answer to the murder of Kell and Griff’s parents had been staring me in the face the whole time? What if it was my father?
How could Kellan or Griff ever forgive me if that was true? How could I ever forgive myself?
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Kellan
The following days were perfect. I’d planned on staying home the night after I told Chase I loved him. I figured we needed the space to come to terms with everything. Poor Chase had called me, though, told me he’d had a run-in with his dad, and asked if I could come over.
My heart ached for him. He was too good a man to have to deal with his daddy, but it meant the world to me that he’d called me when he needed someone there. That he knew he could not only trust me, but that I would somehow help make it better. Most of the time, it seemed people thought I needed to be soothed or fixed or supported, but Chase saw something in me that few others did—that I could be there for someone too. Chase could have gone to Griff or Becca, yet he’d chosen me.