Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 56257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
That’s the correct answer, apparently. Brad nods with satisfaction and pulls out of the parking spot. My finger twitches for my phone, but I’ve got to have discipline here. I need to think about Brad for once instead of Rust and me and the future that I shouldn’t even let myself want.
Back at the hotel, Brad shuts himself in his room. He won’t even speak to or look at me. Sitting on the edge of my bed, I take out my phone and read the three texts Rust has sent me. I’ve got two missed calls from him, too.
Where are you?
Are you with Brad?
Mary?
I bite my lip, feeling how anxious he is simply because he messaged me more than once. I want to go back and find the video from the conference when he said he fell in love with me. I couldn’t focus on it as I chased Brad from the arena, but I heard the word love.
I can’t celebrate right now. God, I’m a terrible sister. “Yes, you are.” No, the last thing I need is Mom’s voice.
He’s in his room. He won’t talk to me.
Where are you staying? he texts.
I’m not sure that I should say.
Tell me, Mary. I have to see you. I have to see Brad.
Wondering if I’m making a mistake, I text him the hotel address. Then I go to the window and look down at the street, my belly aching, like the baby in there is feeling all the anxiety and uncertainty, too.
“It’s okay, little one,” I whisper, stroking my hand over my belly. “One day, this will all seem like a bad dream. We’ll be happy. Mommy and Daddy will always support you, and so will Uncle Brad, okay?” I repeat it like I’m trying to convince myself, with extra emphasis. “Okay?”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SEVEN
RUST
As I drive as quickly as city traffic will let me, a call comes through on the speakerphone. I hammer the answer button without letting the robotic voice read out the number or the contact. I need to speak to Brad and say… What am I going to say? How can I justify this? I always knew this would be the end of our friendship.
“Hello, is this Mr. Hadley? Rust Hadley?” The man’s voice sounds official.
“Yeah. Who’s this?”
“I’m Detective Peter Mendez with the Little Shore Police Department. I’m sorry, sir. This is very delicate news. It concerns your father.”
“In more trouble, is he?” I growl, thinking of all the times he hurt my mom.
“I’m sorry, sir, but your father passed away after an altercation in a bar.”
“He said he was sober,” I say, wondering if it makes me a bad man that I don’t give a damn if he’s gone. In fact, I wish he and my mom could’ve switched places and let her live a few more years.
“That’s incorrect,” the police officer says. “With due respect—”
“You don’t have to dance around this,” I snap. “I know he was a scumbag. I grew up with him.”
“He was a regular at this particular bar. He’d made a nuisance of himself before.”
“Bothering people? Bothering women? Dad was always like that. He thought he owned a woman because he could bully her. I guess a brother, husband, or uncle took it the wrong way.”
“Yes, sir. Well, a boyfriend. There was a fight, and your father pulled a knife. The other man managed to take it from him, but in the process, he accidentally cut him.”
“He did the world a favor,” I say, feeling weirdly befuddled, my head swimming. “I know how dark that sounds, officer, but it’s true. My dad did too many bad things in his life to deserve pity. When I’m a father, I’m going to do better.”
I’m almost yelling, my voice hoarse, my adrenaline pumping wildly.
“Sir—”
“I’m always going to be there for my child. Every step of the way. Every single day. I won’t abandon them, no matter what. They will never fucking see or hear or even think about me hurting their mom.”
I hang up the phone, wishing my woman was here, wishing I could stop the car, stop the rushing madness, and feel her support. I wish we could both pause and feel the love between us. I drive to the hotel, toss the valet my keys, and then basically sprint for the lobby.
Before anybody can recognize me—I hope—I take the fire exit and run up the stairwell, my footsteps echoing around me like my thoughts. It’s like bubbles are popping up, possible futures. In some of them, my child grows up miserable and alone, isolated like I was, exposed to all kinds of filth.
In others, it’s Mary and I raising our child but without Brad. In a few, the most unrealistic ones, it’s all three of us smiling down at the bundle of joy, sharing in the love. Love. I thought it wasn’t meant for men like me, but now it’s what pushes me most.