Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 66057 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66057 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
“You’re not fucking welcome here, so you can turn your ass around and walk out the same door you walked through.”
“Christian…”
He jerked around, getting right in my face. “No! I am not doing this shit with you again. I don’t need to remind you of what happened the last time you didn’t listen to me, do I?”
My chest was rising and falling with each word that flew out of his mouth while my gaze was still cemented to the woman who’d given me life. It was like I was that little girl all over again, praying that her mom would tuck her into bed.
I never thought this day would come.
Or maybe I did…
Either way, it was here, and I had no idea how to handle it.
Christian was right about everything he was saying. I felt it in the core of my being, but I couldn’t stop the emotions that were wreaking havoc as to what to do with her sudden appearance in my life again.
The sad and apologetic expression on her face was tearing at my insides, one by one. I felt it in my heart, in my bones, in the pit of my stomach. The guard I had up when it came to her was breaking with her standing in front of me.
“I’m so sorry,” she breathed out, hanging on by the same thread I was. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I have no excuses for myself. The only thing I have is my profound remorse. I never meant to hurt you, either of you. Kinley Care Bear, I love you more than anything in this world. I’m asking you to please have mercy on me and allow me to be in your and my grandson’s life.”
Christian didn’t falter, spinning around and roaring, “Over my dead body!”
Those four words.
That one statement…
Threw my mind right back to that night when I didn’t listen to him.
And I’d been living with that regret ever since.
Chapter 24
Kinley
Then
I blew out the twenty-four candles on my turquoise cake before Christian kissed me.
“Happy birthday, baby.”
We were at his parents’ house celebrating. Everyone who mattered to me was there, except for my mom. For the last two years, she was a mess. Some days were better than others. She was drinking, off her meds, and I didn’t know what I could do anymore.
Christian was over it, tired of what she was constantly putting me through. On top of worrying about her endlessly, I was over at her house a lot, making sure she was at least eating, and her house was cleaned up. I was terrified she’d throw up in her sleep and choke on her own puke. I was constantly checking in on her.
The last thing I wanted was for her to die because of the decision she’d made while intoxicated.
I desperately tried to make Christian understand, and all that would end up happening was us arguing about why I was defending her, still taking care of her, and putting up with what she was doing to me.
I couldn’t help it, I didn’t want to lose her again. He didn’t understand. His parents were normal, healthy, and they had no vices or faults. His family was perfect.
Although, at least now my mom wasn’t nasty to me like she was before, always telling me how much she appreciated me, how lucky she was to have a daughter like me, how much she loved me and wished she could be better for me. I focused on that instead of the disaster she’d caused in my life.
Every day it was a different story about why she was drinking in the first place.
I was having to pick her up at random bars at all hours of the night. Most of the time I was sleeping next to Christian, who of course, never let me go on my own to get her. We’d end up in some shady ass neighborhoods with his temper looming. He was furious with her…
With me.
Yet still, he was by my side, carrying her out of the bar and into the back of his truck. One time she threw up all over his seats, and despite getting it detailed, the heavy scent of vodka and vomit lingered in the leather for several weeks. Having to throw her into cold showers to sober her up was a thing of the norm.
Let’s just say Christian’s patience with her was wearing very fucking thin.
I hated fighting with him over her, but what was I supposed to do? I couldn’t just leave her alone. What kind of daughter would I be if one day I got a phone call that she’d died in a car accident or something? I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to her and I could have prevented it.
I was at a loss when it came to her.