Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 96586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
No need to tell her I might not answer because I’ll be here.
Because I fucking won’t be here by the time her training shit is finished.
I’ll be home or on my way home or on my way to the fucking gym if I can’t shake off the aftermath of being around him.
I get out of my car, lock it, and tuck my cell into my back pocket.
Fuck Noah for this.
Fuck him so hard for making me a deal too damn good to refuse.
Primarily because I wanna buy Pres an engagement ring.
And those fuckers aren’t by any means cheap.
Between bills and rent I might be able to save enough to buy her one by the time we’re thirty fucking five.
Coming here, granting this heartless bastard his last dying wish of seeing me, will speed that process up a bit.
Perhaps I can get her something decent by the time we’re thirty-three instead.
With Law’s recent advice reverberating around my mind, I cross the freshly washed circular driveway for the front door.
Closure is good.
Closure is healthy.
Closure may kill some of the craving that occur every time my life seems to veer off the track I fucking had planned.
Like it did that night I came home just an innocent young kid so fucking happy in love.
So goddamn hopeful.
In some ways, I’m that guy all over again.
Building and planning a future with the only woman I’ll ever love.
Except this asshole won’t fuck me twice.
No.
He won once.
And once was enough.
A single knock is all I deliver to the pristine, frosted glass door of the mansion much too large for any one person to occupy.
Let alone a dying one.
To my surprise, someone actually heard it.
And answers.
An older – if I had to guess middle-aged – Asian woman cracks open the door with a welcoming grin. “Good evening, Ryder.”
Her knowledge of my name makes me even more uncomfortable than I already am. “Good evening. Are you Janet Liu, his home nurse?”
She happily nods at the same time she ushers me inside. “Come on in. We’ve been expecting you.”
I toss the woman a skeptical stare the instant I’m inside. “Excuse me?”
“Derek-” she cuts herself off abruptly, “Mr. Collins has been praying daily that you’ll come. Each night he has me watch the monitors in hopes you’ll arrive just after dinner. The only reason I knew for sure to expect you today is because Noah called ahead of time.”
“Of course he fucking did.”
“I didn’t tell Derek-” Janet self corrects once again, “Mr. Collins you were coming so that he’d be surprised when he saw his prayers were finally answered.”
Rather than shit on enthusiasm regarding my presence and his joy, I simply state, “You can call him Derek or whatever it is you normally do. I don’t give a fuck.”
Once more, she warmly nods. “It’s nice to finally meet you, by the way.”
I do my best to be polite. “You too.”
“I’ve only met your sister, Liz, in person once, which was when I first started,” she casually informs. “All communication since has been via phone, email, or video call.” She motions her hand the direction she wants us to take. “Her request.”
Yeah, except she doesn’t not wanna see him because of an emotional fucking scar.
She’s just too fucking self-absorbed to make the time.
That is if you ask Noah who bitches about the shit at least once a week.
“Other than Noah, Derek doesn’t have any visitors.” Janet tosses me a solemn expression. “His request.”
I try not to smile vindictively at how the social sultan has fallen.
How more than just his body has betrayed him.
How his once picture-perfect prized legacy is now in pieces.
Fucking shambles.
God, it feels good to know Karma can do her fucking job.
“He has photos of all of you,” Janet continues talking during her guiding around the house I try not to pay too much attention.
The less I can remember about this place…this moment…the better.
It’s impossible not to sneer at her statement as I notice the framed picture. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why all the photos?”
“Because he loves you,” she states in such a tone I’m tempted to buy it.
And in the same breath it almost hurts my heart for her that she does.
Our arrival in front of a pair of cracked French doors is followed by another hand gesture. “You will find Derek inside most likely reading Frost or Faulkner. He’s quite a fan of classic literature.” The faintest redness tints her cheeks. “I may be to blame for that.” Janet politely folds her fingers together in front of her. “I prefer poetry; however, I am very well versed in Hemingway and Steinbeck and Mary Flannery O'Connor.”
“My girlfriend has me reading poetry, too.” Against my own volition, I grin wide. “More Shel Silverstein and Nikki Giovanni rather than Frost.” An inkling that there’s more to what she’s saying is what prompts me to add, “Guess Collins men will read anything the woman they love asks them too, huh?”