Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 91507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
“How did you—?”
“Rafe thought I knew.”
She picked up her fork but didn’t use it. “It’s a long and very complicated story, honey.”
“That’s what you always say.”
“It’s true.”
“Did you love him? Did he love you? If not, why does he support us?”
“Of course I loved him.”
“But he’s so horrible.”
“He wasn’t always. When he was young, he was carefree and kind. He had the biggest heart and was so generous.”
“What happened?”
She cast her sad eyes down. “It’s that world they live in. It corrupts even the most innocent. That’s why I couldn’t marry him.”
“What?”
“When I found out I was pregnant, I left him. I’d seen what happened to children raised in that environment. By that time, it had already started to change your father. I couldn’t let you grow up like that.”
“You left him?”
“It was the hardest decision I’ve ever made, but I still think it was the best one. Look at you, you are brave and unique, kind and sweet, adventurous and loving. You don’t care about possessions. You’re not selfish or petty.”
Not like them, she meant. He pictured Malcolm’s face, how he’d sneered and brandished his wealth like a weapon. He never wanted to be like that, but all this new information turned everything he’d ever thought about himself, about his parents, on end.
“Wasn’t he angry?”
“Maybe a little, but mostly he was sad. We loved each other so much, it just wasn’t meant to be.”
“Is that why you never got married?”
“I know it might be hard for you to understand, your generation is so free with their hearts, but I could never love another man. Not when I’m still in love with your father.”
He rubbed his chest. No, that wasn’t hard for Hop to understand. It was the same for him. He was Rafe’s forever. All of a sudden, he sympathized with Roland.
“You broke his heart.”
“I did. For you.”
“No wonder he hates me.” It all made a weird sort of sense now.
“He doesn’t hate you, how could he? You are the product of our love.”
“Mom, trust me, hate is probably too kind a word for how he feels about me.”
“You’re wrong.” She stood, went into her bedroom and came back with a shoe box. “These are all the letters he’s written to me since you were born. There are twenty-five, one for each birthday.”
Hop shook his head. “Then how could he do it? How could he use us to control Rafe? How? If he loved you and doesn’t hate me, how can he threaten to leave us destitute? He’s a bad man. You might know a different side of him, but he’s not that boy anymore. He’s not. He’s not. He can’t be.”
“Calm down, what do you mean threaten us? What are you talking about?”
Watching the box of letters like a snake might jump out to bite him, he told his mother everything. How his father had charged Rafe with keeping Hop out of his hair, how, when it hadn’t worked, he’d used the money to keep Rafe away, how Rafe had lied to protect them—all of it. And with every word, he watched the devotion in her eyes crystallize into outrage.
* * *
The thing about watching someone from afar for almost twenty years was that you learned a lot about their habits. Namely, when to catch them off guard and alone.
After the conversation with his mother, Hop felt armed and ready to go to war.
He wouldn’t be a pawn in this man’s games any longer. And neither would his mother...or Rafe. He pulled the box of letters from his bag. Snowflakes landed on the lid, melting quickly. Roland had used their love as a weapon and now it was time to throw it back in his face. Hop tucked the box away and tugged his scarf tighter.
Across the road was the tailor Roland used for all of his suits. The last Monday of every month, he held a standing appointment to get fitted personally by the owner. He always went alone and left promptly at noon.
Hop checked the time on his phone.
11:58.
He crossed the road and stood outside the building as the minutes ticked down. All the things he’d wanted to say to his father over the years were the subtitles of his life, but now there was only one.
He no longer had any power over Hop.
Roland Lockwood stepped out of the old store, placing a black fedora on his balding head. His long winter coat brushed his ankles as he walked toward his car, toward Hop.
Their eyes met, Roland’s steps faltered.
“Hello, father.”
“How did you find me?”
“You’re a man of habit, if not integrity.”
Roland’s eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”
“Turn up your hearing aid, old man.”
Sputtering, Roland sidestepped Hop, but Hop blocked him.
“Let me pass.”
“No. You’re going to listen to me once in your miserable life. After that, we’ll forget we share the same blood.”