Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
That’s it.
I release her and escape out the garage in one quick move.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Mom and I spend a good minute or two staring at each other. I’m fairly certain thirty-five-year-old men can’t be grounded, but she might prove that theory wrong.
I hear Josie’s car door shut and her car pull out of the driveway. Mom tilts her head a fraction like she’s listening to the same thing.
“Thought you two were going for a drive.”
I return an easy nod. “That was the plan.”
“And … what happened? Your pants fell down on the way to the car? And … you were helping Josie pull up her pants because you’re a gentleman like that?”
Clicking my tongue twice, I wink at her. “Exactly.”
She frowns. My humor’s not everyone’s taste.
Crossing her arms over her chest, she flicks out her hip. “Do you know what it means to court a woman? Because I feel like I failed you as a mother. You’ve never had any control around Josie. And I have a granddaughter (whom I love beyond words) because you think sex is the equivalent of holding hands. It’s not.”
“It was Josie’s idea.”
“Colten Wilson Mosley, you are a grown man. Stop blaming Josie for everything like you’re still a child.”
I’ve taken a life. Twice. Once as a Marine and once on the police force. I know martial arts. I have elite combat skills. I track down killers, risking my life to keep the public safe. How am I having this conversation with my mother?
I rub my mouth to keep her from seeing my grin.
“You have to grow up and take responsibility for your actions. You are a father now. And Josie deserves a man who’s got it all together.”
“I take offense to that. I have it together. I have a job. I pay my child support on time every month. I take my own bags to the grocery store. And I always have a condom in my pocket. Katy wasn’t a one-night stand. We were dating.”
Mom’s expression wrinkles into a map of confusion. “So you were dating Katy, but you didn’t love each other enough to get married for Reagan’s sake?”
“I asked her to marry me.”
Her jaw unhinges.
I nod several times before blowing a quick breath out my nose. “She didn’t sense my love for her was what she deserved, and she was right.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me that?”
I shrug. “Katy and I felt a little irresponsible, and we felt like it wasn’t anyone’s business. She knew her parents would try to talk her into marrying me, and I … well, I wasn’t sure what you would say.”
Pursing her lips, she offers a slow nod. “Compare Katy to Josie.”
My head inches side to side. Then I lace my fingers behind my head and gaze at the ceiling. “Apples and oranges. Really, I can’t compare them. Katy is the mother of my daughter. Josie’s the …”
“The what?”
“I don’t know,” I whisper. “I never saw this coming. Her path and mine running side-by-side again. And when I see her …” I return my attention to my mom. The gravity of my feelings seems to wipe the amusement from my face. “When I see her, I feel like our story is still untold. Seventeen years feel like seventeen seconds.”
I can’t remember the last time my mom looked at me with anything but concern on her face. She’s always been worried that I’d be my dad. I’m not him.
“Go to bed, Colten.”
Again … I’m thirty-five, but I nod and shut off the garage lights behind us.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Three dead teenagers waiting in the morgue.
Not my idea of a perfect Monday morning.
“Everybody gets a gun. You get a gun. She gets a gun. Every human gets a gun.”
If I didn’t already know where Dr. Cornwell stood on gun rights, I do now.
Alicia eyes me as she assists him. It’s the you-saved-my-life-with-your-gun look. I don’t think I saved her life. I think I saved us from being robbed, but I know from her incessant thank-you’s that she feels like I saved her.
“If drugs were decriminalized, we wouldn’t have to do this so much,” I respond while removing drugs in the tied fingers of latex gloves.
“Guns and drugs, Watts? How did I not know about your dark side?” Dr. Cornwell laughs.
I smirk behind my mask. “We all have a dark side. I carry a gun. You hide a large bag of beef jerky in your desk next to a bag of peanut M&Ms. I’m likely to take someone else’s life. You’re likely to take your own.”
I love Cornwell’s chuckle. It’s genuine, like a father finding his daughter’s antics amusing. “Touché.”
When my exhausting morning bleeds into the afternoon, all the way until two o’clock, I retire to my office for lunch and reporting.
“Oh god …” I murmur to myself when I spy Detective Mosley waiting outside my office. Head bowed to his phone. One leg crossed over the other.