Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 37970 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 190(@200wpm)___ 152(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37970 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 190(@200wpm)___ 152(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
"He's a good guy."
"Yeah, he is."
"You left when you were eighteen?"
I nod, my forehead bumping the window. "The day I turned eighteen," I murmur. "Some of the people in town helped me find a job and an apartment in Granite Hills. They had us moved out by the time Nate got home from school. We've lived half an hour from our father ever since, but we've only seen him a few times a year. Once I was given custody of Nate, I told him that he couldn't see him if he was drunk. He was always drunk."
"Is that what…?"
"Killed him?" I ask, glancing over at Emmett, who grimaces and then nods. I laugh without humor. There's nothing funny about the situation. But if I don't laugh, I think maybe I'll cry. "You'd think so, but no. It wasn't his liver. He had an undiagnosed heart condition. I'm sure all the alcohol didn't help, but he had a series of heart attacks. Maybe if he'd gone to the hospital for the first or the second one, they could have saved him, but he didn't." I sigh quietly, watching my breath fog the window before the sun immediately dries it up. "He died at the racetrack."
"Did he gamble often?"
"Only every chance he had. He used to own a trucking company. It wasn't massive, but it was successful. He gambled away everything he ever made."
"Jesus Christ," Emmett mutters. "Did he leave you guys with anything, baby?"
"The house and a small life insurance policy. I guess he cashed out his retirement plan at some point. We had enough to bury him."
Emmett mutters something under his breath. "Was the house insured?"
"Why?" I ask, antsy as hell, especially after that text. I don't want to talk about this, not right now, not with him. And yet…I'm seriously beginning to wonder if I have a choice.
My brother is already a criminal. If I keep my mouth shut and take the insurance money to pay off my dad's bookies, that makes me one, too. It makes Nate even more guilty than he already is.
How can I ever teach him right from wrong if I choose wrong just because it's easier? Just because it's safer? I've been asking myself the same question all morning, and I don't have an answer.
"I'm just curious, Red," Emmett says gently. "You don't have to tell me. I just wanted to make sure you weren't going to be hurting financially because someone burned down the house."
"Oh." Guilt washes through me in a massive flood. Of course he's asking because he's worried. He's been nothing but nice to me since the minute he found me in that bathroom. And more and more, I feel like I don't deserve it.
How the hell am I supposed to protect him and my brother when they're on opposite sides of this? To allow Emmett to do his job, I have to tell the truth and risk Nate going to jail. To protect Nate, I have to keep Emmett from doing his job. If I tell Emmett the truth, and he tries to help me protect Nate, he risks his job. It's an impossible situation.
"We don't have to talk about it," he murmurs.
Another flood of guilt roars through me. "There was an insurance policy, but the money isn't going to help financially."
"Why not?"
"It doesn't matter," I whisper. "It's just not."
We ride in silence for several long moments before he clears his throat.
"I have two dads," he says. "Coolest fucking dads on the planet, but the world is what it is and people still do and say horrible things to one another and claim it's what God would want. So, when I was a kid, someone in the neighborhood got tired of living next to two gay men with a kid and burned down our house."
"Oh my god," I whisper, staring at him in horror.
"We were all inside at the time," he murmurs. "We were able to get out safely, but we lost everything. And it took weeks before they caught the guy. I think I spent every fucking day terrified he'd come back."
"Emmett," I whisper, reaching for his hand.
"I decided I wanted to be an arson investigator shortly after." He squeezes my fingers, glancing over at me. "I wanted to be the guy who caught assholes like that. There are dangerous people in this world." He pauses for a moment. "I kind of like the thought of being the guy standing between you and them."
Crap. I don't think he believed me last night when I told him that I didn't know anything about the men lurking around. He suspects enough to think they're involved.
"I know you don't trust me. I know you've got secrets. But I'm not going to hurt you, baby," he continues quietly. "I'm trying to protect you. I just need you to help me do that."