Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 69777 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69777 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Nosy little ass.
I had been debating on letting her know that I knew she’d gone to Atlanta to a fucking pawn shop or just letting it go. I knew what she had pawned and how much she had been given.
I must have missed where she’d had the diamonds tucked away, or I’d have taken them with the money. The fucker had ripped her off, but I had the other nine grand from him tucked away, which I’d gotten from the owner when I stopped in for a visit. I would put it in the savings account I had for her and Dovie. She was hell-bent on having her own money, and six grand wasn’t going to get her very far. I wanted to believe she wouldn’t leave me now. It was hard when she did shit like go pawn jewelry behind my back.
“I don’t know how to tell her,” she said, then began biting her bottom lip nervously.
I reached over and pulled it free, then held her chin as she lifted her eyes to meet mine. “She’s going to be happy,” I reassured her.
Briar nodded. “Yeah, I know, but there is still the thing about Netta. I don’t know how she’s going to handle her death. She never spoke of her, but it’s still her mom.”
The thought that Dovie would be upset over her trashy-ass birth giver’s death hadn’t occurred to me when I shoved her down the flight of stairs. I was just happy her fucking neck had snapped and her head had hit the concrete so hard that it cracked her skull. I hadn’t wanted to draw it out. I’d needed to get back to Briar. Regardless, I would have still offed the bitch.
“She has you,” I reminded her.
Briar let out a deep sigh. “I just want to say the right thing.”
“Tell her when you’re ready. Then, I’ll set up the visit to Our Lady of Grace.”
Briar scrunched her nose. “What is that?”
I dropped my hand from her chin and shrugged, leaning back on the sofa with my other arm behind her. “A Catholic school about thirty minutes from here that has classes for the hearing impaired. Not that Dovie needs that, but there will be people who use sign language for communication,” I explained.
Briar stared at me for a moment, saying nothing.
“You’re serious?” she asked finally.
I nodded. “What? I mean, unless you have an aversion to Catholics.”
She let out a short laugh. “No, I don’t have an aversion to Catholics. But you’re telling me you looked into schools for her specifically already?”
“Of course I did. There’s a long wait list there, but she bypassed the list.”
Briar raised her eyebrows. “She did, huh? Do I want to know why, or should I just not ask how you managed to pull that off?”
“I know the priest,” I told her. That was all she had to know. The rest would probably be too much for her.
“You know the priest,” she said slowly, looking like she wanted to ask more but was debating it. “Oh, but she’s behind. She has missed four years of school. What—”
“They are aware of that, and she will start with a private instructor. She can attend the classes she should be in at her age, but she will have private lessons mixed into her schedule. Just so that she doesn’t feel excluded, they think it is best she gets to go to the regular classes even if she isn’t being graded in there just yet.”
When I finished explaining, the look on Briar’s face was complete adoration.
That’s right, little siren. I’m taking care of things.
“You thought of everything,” she said.
I shrugged. “I’m thorough.”
She had no idea just how thorough I was. I decided to tell her the rest since she was going to think about it too.
“Drew, the doctor—I’m sure you remember him even if you were in pain at the time—he also set up some appointments for Dovie with a psychologist out of Atlanta who specializes in childhood trauma. She’s well known, and she’s worked with others with Dovie’s same issue. You know, her speech, I mean.” Or lack thereof.
Her mouth opened slightly as her eyes widened. “It’s all really happening. Dovie is getting everything I wanted for her.”
Yes, she was. And I was the one paying for it. Not some rich bastard who was keeping Briar as a side piece.
“I told you I would fix your problems. There’s a new app on your phone that will help you read things. It’s specifically for dyslexia. The specialist I spoke with said this is the best out there right now. If you are open to it, I can get them to come here and work with you once or twice a week.”
She was staring at me, saying nothing, when she finally blinked, then shook her head.
Still not responding to what I’d told her, she leaned forward and placed the paperwork on the coffee table. Then, she stood up, turned to face me, then climbed into my lap, straddling me.