Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 113142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
“I don’t know, baby. I don’t know if either of them knows how to love. You deserve nothing but love. Sarah…” I paused, not sure how to continue with this unpleasant subject.
“What?”
I drew in a deep breath. “She’s an unhappy, uptight, scared woman. She lost herself somewhere, and in doing so, she lost you too. You have to forgive her and move on.”
Suddenly, she was furious. “Forgive her? You want me to forgive her? When did you get so fucking magnanimous? You shake hands with Bradley, you tell me to forgive my mother? Well, fuck that!
“Fuck it all!”
Her cereal bowl flew, hitting the wall and shattering into hundreds of shards, the wet mess dripping down the concrete surface. My half-full bottle of beer followed, the foamy liquid exploding as the glass smashed. The milk was next, the white spray hitting the counter, she threw it so hard—then the open bag of chips, the contents spilling everywhere. The one and only mug we had left met its demise in a blaze of curse words as she flung it, almost panting in her fury. I wasn’t in time to stop her when the glass coffeepot sailed past me, the sound almost like a high-pitched shriek when it hit the wall, bursting into tiny fragments that flew far and wide.
I stared at the destruction she had caused in such a short period of time. It was impressive. So were the curse words she had shouted as she raged. I’d never heard her use language like that before in anger. I wasn’t even aware she knew half those words. I was partially upset, more than amused, and somewhat turned on.
“Well,” I drawled. “Guess I rubbed off on you more than I realized. The coffee shop will thank you for that tomorrow morning. I have a feeling we’re gonna need a lot of caffeine, and they’ll benefit from your little tantrum—spectacular as it was.”
Her gaze flew to mine, and she crumpled. She dropped her face into her hands, sobbing. Her knees buckled, and I lunged forward, catching her before she hit the floor. Lifting her into the safety of my arms, I held her close. Hiccupping apologies and incoherent words were intermingled with her harsh cries. I carried her to the bed, cradling her face to my chest, letting her sob. The past few days had been one emotional upheaval after another for her, and the scene with her mother tonight had been the final straw. She needed to let it out. I ran my hands up and down her back in comforting passes and nuzzled her hair. Her hot tears soaked into my shirt, and as much as I hated hearing her crying, it was better than her holding in the pain.
Her sobs became gradual whimpers, and the horrible shudders eased off to shivers as she quieted. When she tilted her head back, I handed her some tissues, letting her wipe her eyes and nose. I dabbed at her cheeks when more tears slid down.
“I got your shirt wet.”
I chuckled. “Snotty, too.”
Her lips trembled, and I shook my head. “I’m teasing. It’s fine.” I shifted, sliding her forward a little, and tore my shirt over my head, tossing it away. “See? It’s fine.”
“I’m sorry. I made a mess.”
“We’ll clean it up.” I ran my fingers through her knotted hair. “Do you feel better?”
“I feel confused and…torn.”
“Understandable.”
“They controlled me for years. I was never going to be enough. I accepted the blame for Ollie’s death because they told me it was my fault. They drummed it into my head for years, and I believed them. But it wasn’t my fault.”
Hallelujah. She finally understood.
I caressed her cheek. “No, it wasn’t.”
“No more, Adam. It was an accident. I’m not going to be their scapegoat anymore.”
“Good. You’re done with them. With all that bullshit.”
She looked toward the kitchen. “I shouldn’t have done that, though.”
“I must be a bad influence.” I smirked down at her, trying to get her to smile. “It’s okay. We’ll get more bowls and stuff. You could have spared the coffeepot, though. It never did anything bad. I’d finally broken it in, so the java tasted good.”
“Um, Adam, your coffee is like tar.”
I was quite partial to my strong brew. “Exactly.”
“I’ll replace it. The coffeepot, I mean.”
I shook my head. “We’ll call it even over your mug. They died in acts of bravery.” I kissed her nose. “We’ll add a new one to the list, along with dishes.”
“We’ll pick out different ones.”
“Damn right.” I traced a finger down her damp skin. “New dishes, new coffeepot, and a new life—for both of us.” I hesitated. “You have to forgive her to move on, baby. I do too. We need to. It doesn’t mean what she did was right—Bradley, either. But that’s how closure begins.”
“I don’t know if I’m ready to forgive.”