Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 78438 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78438 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
The rest of the morning passes with ease. I sit in the living room most of the time reading or watching TV. I’m simply trying to get back to regular life by catching up on some of my favorite TV shows.
I was told not to turn the news on, but I did anyway. It turns out I shouldn’t have. John’s face is plastered on the screen. The news channel is talking about his murder and how the FBI is on the lookout for anyone with any answers to how his death came about. I have two words for them—Lorenzo King. Though I’m sure they already know.
“He’s here,” Jared says from across the room as he paces the floor for the twentieth time. My stomach is in knots by the time I hear the doorbell ring, and I’m about ready to vomit on the floor.
“Son...” I hear him before I see his face. His voice is deep and gravelly, reminding me of my father’s.
“Dad.” Jared sighs, wrapping his father in a tight hug.
I stay seated, not sure if I should get up or not. Is he expecting to hug me too? I don’t know if I’m okay with that.
They walk through the entryway, and his dark eyes slide across the room until they land on me. He looks very similar to John in many ways, which makes sense since they were brothers. His face is worn, and his eyes are dark, holding a look of sadness in them. They brighten slightly upon landing on me, but otherwise, he looks like a man who has settled on hard times.
“Amara?” My name sounds completely unnatural on his tongue. His voice and looks might match my dad’s, but not the way he says my name. There is no familiarity.
Smiling softly, I stand, taking small steps to where he’s standing.
“That’s me,” I say, almost shyly. I’m never shy, scared shitless, maybe, but shy? No. That’s not me usually.
I hold out my hand, offering him to shake it, but instead, he reaches out, pulling me into his arms. My first instinct is to pull away, to push against his chest, but I fight it. His body encompasses my small frame as the smell of smoke and cologne hit me, and I let that sense calm my nerves a little.
“I can’t believe it.” He sounds on the verge of tears. James releases me with hesitation as if he thinks I’ll skip away into the fog. “I’m so sorry.”
“Let’s go sit and talk,” Jared suggests, ushering us into the living room.
I turn on my heels and head for the same seat I was in before.
James stares at me for a long moment, simply smiling. “I can’t even believe this… I’m so flabbergasted.”
“Don’t worry, you aren’t the only one shocked as all hell,” I add, looking between him and Jared.
The leather against my skin is the only thing keeping me in place. I’m honestly scared to find out about the past.
Smiling, he cocks his head. “You look just like your mother—God, Samantha was beautiful.” I can hear the reminiscence in his voice.
“Thanks,” I murmur, unsure of what else there is to say.
“I’m so sorry about missing all these years. Your mother never told me about you. She just kind of disappeared, and then suddenly, she was sick, and…” He stops mid-sentence.
“It’s still kind of hard to talk about her. I feel the same.”
“Of course, of course.” He nods, running a hand through his dark brown hair.
Silence stretches between us after that. I have so many questions, but not a single one comes to mind.
“Well, Dad, I’m glad you made it here in one piece. I wasn’t sure your beat-up truck was going to make it through a two-hour trip,” Jared jokes to break the silence. We all let out a laugh as I listen to the two of them make digs at each other about the mysterious truck. Jared says it made it through The Cold War, World War One and Two, and Vietnam. Basically, it’s old.
“Enzo,” James greets, seeing him before I do. He walks into the living room, wearing a pair of blue jeans and a white V-neck Tee. He looks fuckable as always.
“James.”
“I hope you’re treating my daughter well,” James warns.
“As good as a queen should be treated.” I didn’t have to look at Enzo to know there was a dark look on his face. He didn’t like people assuming he treated me poorly.
“Good. I came here to talk to Amara, and it’s what I would like to do right now if it’s okay with all of you?” James says, commanding all the attention.
Strangely, the energy in the room changes. I’m not sure if it is James’s comment or the fact that he just called me his daughter, which is still odd and uncharted territory.
Enzo’s eyes find mine, and I can see the question in them without needing the words. I nod my head, letting him know I’ll be okay alone with him.