Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 121460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
I nodded, feeling like I was about to wade into a battle I might not win. Panic flickered through me. “Right. Say goodbye to my pride. Got it.”
The very thought made me restless inside my bones. I muttered a curse under my breath and stood up. “I think I need a run.”
“Robyn runs, too, when she needs to sort out her head.”
“You’re obsessed with that woman.” Maybe giving into love was a terrible idea after all.
“Tell me,” Lachlan drawled mockingly, “when was the last time you didn’t think about Monroe Sinclair?”
Fuck.
I glowered at him. “Point taken.”
19
Monroe
It had been two days since Brodan metaphorically gutted me. School was a much-needed distraction. But in the hours before and after class, the memory of him tormented me.
Coming home had been a huge mistake. I couldn’t wait for the school year to pass so I could get the hell out of there.
Another distraction came in the form of Mum. On top of her hip issues, she’d developed osteoarthritis. She had an appointment with a specialist, so I’d taken the day off school to drive her to and from Inverness.
It was around one o’clock by the time we returned to her cottage. She’d been quiet and docile the entire morning, a reprieve from her acerbic tongue. In fact, it made me brave enough to bring up my dad again in the hopes of getting some answers this time.
I finished making tea in the small kitchen and took a cup and some biscuits to Mum, who sat at the dining table.
Sucking in a breath, I decided to say it before I lost my nerve. “I’m going to track down Dad. Arro says Mac could find him.” It was true. We’d had coffee again last week, and when I’d told Arro about my father, she’d offered Mac’s expertise.
Mum froze for a second, holding the cup in midair before her lips pinched tightly together.
Trying not to heave a sigh of exasperation, I walked into her small kitchen to wash the dishes she’d let pile up last night.
“Why?”
I glanced over my shoulder at the sharp word. “What?”
“Why would you want to find that auld bastard?” Venom tinged every word.
So much for her docile mood.
This woman had treated me like crap my entire life because of Dad’s abandonment, but she hated him just as much as she resented me. “To make peace.”
Mum gave a snort of disdain. “Well, it’s too late for that.”
“It’s never too late.” At the hard glint in her eyes, my stomach dropped. “What is it?”
“He’s dead.”
My heart missed a beat in fear. “What are you talking about?”
Taking a casual sip of her tea, she waited to reply calmly, “He called me about six years ago to tell me he was dying of cancer and wanted to get in touch with you. I told him he could rot in hell.” She took another sip of her tea like she’d just told me Morag’s was out of fresh bread.
I wanted to slap that cup out of her hand.
My skin felt suddenly cold. “You’re lying.”
Mum’s eyes flashed in rage. “Why would I lie? Look up his death in the registry. He died rotting from the inside out, just as he should have.”
No.
No, no, no.
“He wanted to talk to me?”
She shrugged. “Said he wanted to see how you were doing. Said he had things to say. I told him he was getting nowhere near you after he abandoned us.”
Had things to say?
Had Dad wanted to apologize?
To make peace?
To give me peace?
To give himself peace?
And she’d stolen that from us.
Tears of fury brimmed over my lids. “Tell me you’re lying.”
Her eyes widened. “Och, don’t give me that after everything that man did. I was protecting you.”
I laughed in disbelief, and it was such an awful sound, even she flinched. “You’ve never protected me in your entire life. You did this out of spite. You never told me my dad was dead. For six years!”
“He was never a father to you!”
“No, he wasn’t. But maybe we could have talked.” A sob burst out of me, a wail that didn’t sound like me at all. “We could have made peace.”
She scoffed. “You’re living in a dream if you think that would have happened. Look at you. Melodramatic girl.”
“You know, you’ve always been a shitty mum, but you’re also just a terrible, horrible human being!”
“How dare you speak to me like that! And over that man!”
“That man broke me in so many ways, Mum … and I needed that last talk with him. I needed that. I needed to forgive him. And you stole that from me!”
“Some people aren’t worth forgiving,” she hissed.
In an instant, something snapped inside. A calm came over me as I grabbed my purse and keys and stood over her to lean in and hiss back, “You remember you said that.”