Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 104532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Sniffing away my tears, I try to give him a brave smile. I want to say I’m sorry, but that’s not true.
“I’m not sorry,” I say, my voice breaking as his eyes shift out of focus.
Perspiration beads on his forehead. “For what?”
I wipe the sweat away tenderly.
In the end, I don’t shed my fear. It doesn’t work like that. Not for me. Instead, I embrace it, letting the immense weight of its beauty settle in vibrant purples in my darkest corners.
Putting my head in his lap, I lay my heart at his feet. “I’m not sorry for loving you.”
CHAPTER 26
Leon
The pain is excruciating. My body wants to succumb to the blissful state of darkness where it can continue to float in a painless void, but my mind is fighting its way to consciousness, to something bigger than the pain. Someone I need to protect.
Violet.
Something important.
She loves me.
Something worth fighting for.
I wrestle with the darkness, scraping together whatever dregs of strength I can salvage to resist the bone-tiredness that keeps on dragging me under. It’s as if I’m between two worlds, a dark underworld and the one where the light exists. I’m six again, sinking to the bottom of the murky cenote, my lungs collapsing just as Ian grabs my collar and kicks us to the surface. I’m thirty and groping through reeds and mud on the bottom of the Zambesi river, swallowing water as my fingers finally tangle in Ian’s shirt where he’s frantically searching for Cas’s body, dragging him out of the water before both of us drown.
There’s light and a sound, a heartbeat that beeps steadily. A sharp smell of antiseptic doesn’t mask the sweet scent of caramel. The perfume beckons me. I kick harder, my arm muscles burning from pulling myself through the dense mass of the water. It’s more acute now, the pain in my side.
“Leon.”
A voice that calls to me.
A gentle touch, and something I thought I’d never have.
Finally. I break through the surface, the sun hurting my eyes as Ian drags me onto a rock while the older kids watch with wide eyes, the light blinding me as an adult Ian slams his fist into my jaw and fights to dive back into the water.
I blink. The blinding light is white, not yellow like the sun reflecting from the mine dumps or orange like the sky in Zimbabwe. It shines from overhead, matching the color of the walls and the sheets.
“Violet,” I say, the croaky voice not sounding like my own.
Warm fingers brush over mine. “I’m here.”
My tongue is thick in my mouth. It feels like sandpaper when I swallow. My muscles hurt when I turn my head.
My girl is sitting next to the bed with my hand clasped in both of hers. An IV is inserted in my other hand.
“There you are,” she says, her lips tilting in the corners even as tears glisten in her gorgeous eyes.
My grin cracks my lips. “You’re smiling.”
“I am.” She lifts my hand to her mouth and kisses my palm. “Because you’re here.”
I shift and flinch.
“Do you have pain?” she asks with alarm.
“A little.”
“I’ll call the nurse.”
“Wait.” I close my fingers around hers, not wanting to let her go. “Just a little while.”
Her expression softens. “I’m not going anywhere.”
I lick my dry lips. “Do you think I can have some water?”
“Oh.” She jumps to her feet and grabs a paper cup with a straw from the nightstand. “I’m sorry.” She holds the straw against my lips. “Here you go. Small sips.”
I drink until I’m more or less sated. “How long have I been here?”
She puts the cup down. “You’ve been out of the operating room for two hours. The surgeon extracted the bullet. He said you were lucky the bullet didn’t go right through.” She swallows, fresh tears building in her eyes. “Otherwise you could’ve bled out.” She blinks, making the drops run down her cheeks. “I couldn’t face that. Ever.”
“Hey.” Raising my hand, I cup her cheek. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
She places her hand over mine, pressing her face against my palm before putting my hand back on the covers. “There’s an inspector in the waiting room. He wants to ask you some questions. Damian managed to stall the interrogation for a while. He told the doctor to give us time before he tells the police you’re awake, but the doctor won’t wait too long.”
Violence bubbles up inside me when I recall those moments Elliot had a gun pressed against her head. “What did you tell them?”
She sits down on the side of the bed. “The truth. That Elliot showed his father evidence of my mother’s adultery and that Gus tried to kill her. I didn’t mention the blackmailing. I only said Elliot was helping his father but that you came to our rescue. The police say it was a crime of passion. They’re not laying charges because it was self-defense, but Damian called his lawyer just in case.”