Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96714 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96714 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
“What’s she doing here?” He looks me up and down with a sneer of contempt twisting his mouth. “Is it some kind of charity thing?”
Disappointment makes me lower my arms, and with them, the gift I hold out to my brother. “Merry Christmas,” I offer in a pathetic little whisper.
He snorts, then gives a pointed look at the box in my hands. “You think I want a gift from you? What the hell could you give me? You don’t have any money. If you did, you wouldn’t be dressed in that Goodwill getup you’ve got on.”
I look down at myself, at the dress I was so proud of when I put it on. Anger starts to bubble toward the surface. “It’s not from Goodwill.”
He laughs. “It looks like it, and I don’t want trash around me on Christmas. Why don’t you go back to your trailer, trash? Nobody wants you here.”
The memory fades… he wouldn’t cry over me if our positions were reversed. He couldn’t even share a dinner table with me that Christmas. I ate in the kitchen by myself because he told our father I depressed him. That was the first and last time I was ever invited.
“Prick,” Lucas mutters.
“He was that and so much more.” I clear my throat. “I know Quinton expected me to be upset over his death, but honestly, that was the last emotion I’d feel. I mean, I wasn’t cheering or anything like that, but I wasn’t sad either. It was only a matter of time before his asshole ways caught up with him. Truly, I’m shocked it didn’t happen sooner.”
“Valentine deserved to die.” Lucas speaks more to himself than me, but I continue anyway.
“I never spent Christmas or any other holiday with them again. Honestly, I didn’t care. I already knew nobody wanted me. I didn’t need them getting in my face about it. They didn’t even try to put their feelings aside for one day.”
It might as well have happened to another person. It feels that long ago. “They sat around, drinking and making plans, while I sat in a corner and kept my mouth shut. One thing they made sure to drill into my head. I could never ever mention living with my aunt, the trailer, or any of that until after the wedding. They wanted it to look like I was an actual member of the family.”
My heart hurts so much—and when Lucas doesn’t say anything, the pain becomes a deep crater-sized ache in my chest.
Did he fall asleep? Does he not care?
“All because he didn’t feel like raising a daughter.” Lucas finally speaks, his words soothing some of the ache. I close my eyes and let out a sigh of relief before agreeing.
“I suppose it had to do with the fact that my brothers had potential in the family business. I was nothing but a burden. I spent my whole life feeling worthless and broken.” I can’t believe I’m saying this. I’ve never spoken these words out loud, not even to Nash. Especially not him. But I have Lucas’s ear, so I need to take advantage. I need to convince him. I need him to trust me.
“Like, why couldn’t he love me? What was so wrong with me that nobody wanted me around?”
“But he left you a massive trust fund.” There’s that edge in his voice again. I should’ve known it would return. “How does that work?”
“If you ever figure it out, let me know. I don’t get it. He never told me there’d be a trust fund. The man probably went weeks or months without even thinking about me. Why would he leave me a single dime?”
“But it’s there.”
“Then there must be some kind of a mistake. Dick Valentine hated the fact that I was alive. He never checked in on me. He never even threw a few bucks my way—not for food, not to keep the lights on, nothing. He wouldn’t have parted with his precious money for my sake.”
He has to believe me. He just has to. The only thing I have on my side is the truth, so it has to be enough.
Lucas grunts. “I’ll have to look further into it because all the paperwork I’ve seen looks very official and real.”
“Even if he did it, maybe it means he had a change of heart. Maybe he was sick and started looking back on his life and realized he was a worthless piece of shit.”
At first, I don’t recognize the sound coming from the bed, and then it hits me. Choked laughter. He’s laughing. That’s a good sign.
“Listen. I get why this looks bad for me, but do I have to sleep on the floor? There’s so much room up there.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Please. I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”
“No need for that.”