Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
It was a strange transition because it wasn’t strange. I’d vowed to never marry again, never care about a woman again, and sure as fuck to never have a kid again. But it felt… natural. Like this shit was meant to be or whatever.
Things were pretty fucking great if you asked me.
Sure, there were a fair few wolves scratching at my door, and some nights, when Fiona was sleeping wrapped up in her fucking pregnancy pillow, I let them in. Because I had to. Barring that fucking door was what almost cost me my second chance.
So, I had to let them in.
Not just the wolves but Gabbie and Evelyn.
The way she had smiled at me on our wedding day. The way she hid behind her hands if movies got too scary.
And the way I didn’t have nearly as many memories as I should’ve because I was gone so fucking often.
Then the hardest ones. The ones I wanted to bury but had to let in.
The smell of my daughter’s head. The weight of her in my arms. Her small hands grasping my finger. The feeling of the world tilting, the axis changing.
Then the severing of that axis, feeling listless, empty, scooped out from the inside. It was much easier remembering the pain of losing her than the joy of having her.
But I did it.
For Fiona. For our daughter.
For me.
And for Gabbie and Evelyn, because they deserved that.
I’d be forever fucked-up, but I had healed as much as I ever would because of my wife. Because of my daughter growing in her belly.
And now I felt ready to be torn back into that hell with his single phone call.
“He’s in the country?” I clarified, leaping into my truck.
“Yeah, he entered a couple of days ago—”
“Days!” I roared, my heart thundering. “Why in the fuck are you just telling me now?”
“The alert got lost on my desk. I wasn’t in the office, and a fucking intern didn’t know the info was urgent. My fucking fault.” He sounded appropriately guilty. “But really, what are the chances this guy is here for your wife? It’s been a long time since they were married. I doubt he’s been holding a grudge for that long.”
I screeched out of the parking lot. “Yeah, you’re right. Thanks for the heads-up,” I muttered, hanging up.
Gus might’ve been right. It had been a long time since Fiona was married to that asshole. But he was also an asshole who married Fiona. And she was special. One of a kind. And she got away from him. That burn was never going to be salved. Especially with a man like that.
And even if he had let go of that shit, I hadn’t. Sure, I didn’t fly over there and end his life, as tempting as that had been. But I didn’t let shit lie. Because I wasn’t that kind of man.
I’d found out a lot of info through both legitimate and illegitimate means. Emmet Landon had a bunch of shady dealings going on. Yeah, he was from a wealthy family and had access to money that most people would only ever dream of, but he was also a stupid fuck. He spent that money faster than it came in. With trips, houses, failed businesses, gambling. So, he’d gotten into some shady business dealings. Fraud. Embezzlement. Shit that could ruin his life.
And if I wasn’t going to kill the fuck, then I sure as shit was going to ruin his life.
So, I’d called in a bunch of favors. I’d fucked with him in any way I could.
Because I needed to hurt someone to feel better. I needed blood.
And driving home with a feeling of dread in my stomach, I feared I would have blood on my hands once more.
It just couldn’t be the blood of my wife and daughter.
Not again.
No way in fuck would I survive that.
fiona
Of all the unexpected visitors I thought I’d get in my lifetime, my ex-husband really wasn’t one of them.
He still existed to me, in many ways. In nightmares that were now few and far between. In memories that no longer haunted me. I’d checked up on him online every now and then, saw he got remarried to someone young, beautiful, and shiny. I’d wondered if underneath the makeup and the fake tan, she wore the same bruises I had. I’d really fucking hoped not.
He’d never had children. I was glad of that, at least. The thought of inflicting him as a father onto innocent children made me shudder.
I’d been sure I was never going to see him again. Because I’d never put myself in a situation where I would be at risk of seeing him again. That’s what the whole sham wedding had been about. Making sure I wasn’t going to be on the same continent as him ever again.