Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 145634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 728(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 485(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 728(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 485(@300wpm)
A moment passes, my body heating with the agony of her loss as I struggle to right myself.
I’m a fucking mess, but I’ll be there for him. That’s all I need to do. I take one last look around the blush-colored bedroom and walk back into the hall. I can’t close the door. Something in me just wants to leave it open. I can’t shut it.
I look over my shoulder for one final glance into the room as I walk away and down the hall. I almost call out for Derek, but then I hear a sound in the living room. I can’t place what the noise is. But it draws me to him. A moth to flame.
It’s so quiet. It’s ominous. I walk into the dark room and whisper his name. He’s sitting in the dark. I can just barely make him out. He's leaning forward in the white armchair with his head in his hands.
My heart breaks for him. I don’t wait for him to look up; I go straight to him and wrap my arms tightly around him. He doesn’t even say anything as he wraps his arms around my waist and buries his face in my shoulder.
I hold him for a long time, running my hands up and down his back and kissing the top of his head. His face is wet. He’s obviously been crying. I can’t take it. I don’t want to ever see him in pain like this.
“It’s okay,” I whisper without thinking. It’s not really. And I can’t make it okay. I wish I could take it back. If only words were a physical thing, and I could rip them from the air before they reached his ears. My heart clenches in my chest as he shakes his head slightly, not responding.
“Thank you,” he says after a few minutes. His voice is raw.
He quickly wipes around his eyes before picking his head up to look at me. My heart stops in my chest. Holy fuck! His left eye is almost swollen shut. My breath comes up short, and I don’t know how to react.
What the fuck happened?
“For not listening to me. For coming,” he says before leaning in for a quick kiss. He doesn’t address the fact that it looks like he got hit by a fucking tractor-trailer of fists. There’s a huge scratch down his neck, and several bruises forming on his jaw and cheek.
He got fucked up.
I can taste the salt from his tears on his lips. It takes me a moment to even register what he said.
I rub the back of his neck as I say, “Of course I'm here. I’m always going to be here for you.” I say truthful words, but I’m still waiting for him to tell me why the hell he looks like that. I was only behind him by maybe a half an hour. I know I drive slower than him, and I had to take some time to process it when Sandra texted me. I was an emotional wreck, but I wasn’t that far behind him. What the fuck happened?
“Ma…” Derek swallows thickly.
“I know,” I say quickly, so he doesn’t have to. “I texted Sandra after you left.”
He nods his head once and then looks down, avoiding my gaze.
“You really are the sweetest person I have ever met,” he says in a hoarse voice leaning into me again, his hold on me stronger than ever before.
I want to ask him about his face. The only thing I can think of is that he did it to himself. The thought makes me sick. I can’t stand it. I need to ask him, but I can’t right now. I’m struggling to process everything.
“Come on, why don't we have a drink and then try to get some sleep?” And with that, I pull him into the kitchen, my heart beating frantically as I try to figure out what happened.
He sits down on a stool at the island and runs his hands through his hair. “I don't even know where to begin with everything that I have to do this week. Ma’s had everything in order for a while now, but I just can’t think about making arrangements for her funeral.” His voice cracks.
I grab each of us a glass from the cabinet, and pour some brandy in each. I need a drink, too.
“I'll help you. Don't worry about it tonight,” I say as I carry the two glasses over to the island. As I set the glasses down, I see that his knuckles are bloody again. They're much worse than the night at the restaurant. I'm really hoping he just hit a wall though and not a person this time. I stare at them for a long moment, refusing to look at his face.
He notices, but doesn’t say anything. Just like he always does.