Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“Sheep said, Baa!” Vincent reads, his voice low. I realize when I look over at the boys that they’re paying attention to him too. “Cow said, Moo!”
Sutton smiles when Vincent looks over and smiles at her, and it makes me consider all the wrong choices I’ve made in life. It doesn’t take much for me to admit that maybe keeping her a secret might be one of the bigger ones. I know I’m going to have to have some very serious conversations with this man, because he’s not happy with the decisions I made without including him. It makes me wonder if he’s going to hold a grudge and hate me for the time I robbed him of with his daughter. I know there’s a very real chance he’s placating me right now because he’s mature enough not to lose his shit in front of the kids. But the time will come where he’ll be able to voice his opinion without the risk of little ears hearing it. I’m not looking forward to the confrontation because while he was calm last night, that won’t always be the case.
I wish I could take a deep breath and just live in this moment, watching Sutton yawn and rub at her little eyes before curling up on the bed, trying so very hard to pay attention to the book Vincent is reading to her.
But there are a million and one things racing through my head.
We’re nearly four hours from St. Louis, but it’s still not far enough away for me to feel completely safe. I don’t know that I will when we get to New Mexico either.
I still have to figure out the logistics of getting my mother out of Missouri and the worry that Keres will get to her before I can. I know I’ll have to use Vincent’s resources once again to make that happen and that scratches at my skin like thorns on a vine, irritating and damaging parts of me because I’m unable to do these things on my own.
I know I can’t stay with him forever, but I also have no clue how my life will look in the upcoming weeks, much less months and years down the road. Will I have to look over my shoulder for the rest of my life? Will Keres give up and leave us alone, or will I wake up one day with a gun pressed to my head and a demand of money I have no way of paying?
“Get in the bed, Mila,” Vincent whispers. “You look exhausted.”
I want to argue that I didn’t do much today other than ride in the car, but my exhaustion goes deeper than that. It feels like it’s been years in the making.
I let my eyes flutter closed as I listen to him read about little blue trucks and happy farm animals. I’m dozing off when I hear him whispering to Sutton, calling her a sweet girl, and urging her to sleep well.
When the bed shifts, I’m suddenly wide awake, feeling the cool air whoosh between the sheets when he lifts them and climbs inside. The bed is a queen, which is a very intimate size for two adults. He doesn’t apologize when his arm brushes mine, and I’m wondering if lying down facing the center of the bed was the best idea. I keep my eyes closed, not even opening them when the table lamp is clicked off.
I don’t know why I didn’t consider we’d end up like this, but it leaves me nervous and suddenly unable to relax enough to fall back asleep.
I don’t say anything. I don’t attempt to climb out like I probably should. Instead, my mind starts right back up, shuffling through the litany of things I can’t solve. It leaves me feeling helpless and, worse yet, hopeless.
I’ve wanted nothing more than my independence. I fought for it as a teen after Janet married Carlen and moved out of my mother’s home. Being the only child there made my mom double her focus on me. She became stricter, harder to tolerate. She was smothering me. That’s why I went to Louisville, Kentucky for college. I needed to get away from the power and control my mother had over me.
Then Carlen’s dad died, which brought me back to St. Louis and just happened to coincide with Vincent’s visit with his oldest friend. The rest has been a combination of miracles—Sutton—and heartbreaks—the falling out with Janet and her and Carlen’s deaths.
I hate feeling hopeless. I hate knowing I have to depend on others.
I can’t fight the tears that track down my face, disappearing into the pillowcase under my head. Before long, the heartache turns to tiny sobs, and I begin to feel like I’m shattering from the inside out.
Warm fingers encompass mine, but he doesn’t say a word.