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)
My father heavily wheezes, “Ryder-”
“No!” I shout at the top of my lungs, toothpick tumbling to the ground. “You don’t get to say shit to me ever again!”
His mouth quivers yet words remain unspoken.
“You didn’t want me as a fucking son then, and I don’t want you as a fucking father now. But you should know that the money you pumped into my sobriety for years actually worked this time. I’m completely fucking clean. I have been for months. I’m healthy.” A hand gestures over my toned frame. “I have a fucking job.” My finger taps the logo to my work shirt. “I have an apartment with a roommate who is probably the best friend I’ve ever fucking had.” An unconscious smirk slips onto my face. “Fuck, I’m even trying to figure out how to get into school to do something more with my life in a field I really fucking love.” Another bit of pride pumps through my veins pushing out the desire for substances. “Noah and I are working shit out. Repairing our broken family. And most importantly, I have the one person you took away from me back in my life.”
“Pre-”
“No!” I bark even harder than before. “You don’t get to say her fucking name!”
My father tries to close his mouth but seems incapable.
“You’re even less fucking worthy of it than I am.”
Tears I hadn’t noticed before slide down his cheeks as he respectfully nods.
“She’s the main fucking reason I’m here.” The truth announced seems to relax my stance. “She deserves the goddamn world, and one way or another, I’m gonna figure out how to fucking give it to her.”
An unexpected look of awareness floods his stare as though the statement resonates with him.
“The other reason I’m here is because my sponsor says it’s important to face my past. Confront my mistakes. Take responsibility.” Lifting my chin higher feels fucking fantastic. “You are my past. Wanting your approval was my mistake. And I will not fucking make it again. As far as I’m concerned, I’m not your son. Your son died in rehab.”
New tears begin to emerge.
“The man that stands before you, the man that I am now, the man that will someday have his own children to love like he was never loved, is a fucking stranger to you. And he will remain that way. You will die never knowing him.”
His choked sob is oddly empowering.
“You will die never having his approval.”
The sight of him silently bawling in a way I’ve done more times than I can count feels like the perfect time to exit.
“Enjoy your final days on this earth, Derek Noah Collins. May they be filled with the love and peace you once took from me that I’m finally finding again.”
No further words are exchanged.
I stroll back the way I came offering Janet a minor nod before disappearing out the front door.
An odd mixture of pride and reprieve blend together in my bloodstream, banishing any remaining urges for a smoke and lifting my body up to the point it feels like I’m floating.
Like I’m on a different high.
Freedom is what I came here for, yet this wasn’t the type I was expecting.
It was, however, the exact kind I needed.
Vibrations in my pocket have me hastily reaching for my cell, hoping Pres’s training wrapped up early, so I can wrap her up around me, but unfortunately for me, the caller is the exact opposite of my girlfriend.
She’s a haunting reminder to never take for granted the support system I have.
Hitting the answer key is done at the same time I unlock my car. “What.”
“Ryder,” Kara’s voice struggles to come through on the other end. Loud voices, like she’s stuck in a crowd make her faint words barely audible. “…need your help.”
“Where the fuck are you?”
Like her previous sentence, the answer is muffled, “…bar.”
Of course she’s at a fucking bar.
“…near Clover Rose University.”
“Forfuckssake,” I grouse while shoving my key into the ignition. “That’s in the next city over.”
Music and cheering drown out everything but one word. “…please.”
Knowing what it’s like to be left when you feel you need someone the most is what prompts me into sighing, “I’ll come find you. Wait outside for me.”
Ending the call is followed by buckling my seatbelt and pulling away from the curb.
I can’t just walk away from someone I give a fuck about.
Especially not when I know how fragile they’re pretending not to be.
The truth of the shit is that she needs more help than I can give her on my own.
And that shit is something she’s going to have to find if she wants to keep me around.
Chapter 21
Ryder
- “…but I am always trying to.” -
The harsh throbbing of a migraine combined with the annoying sounds of my alarm cause me to unhappily groan as I roll over to turn off my phone.