Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 117446 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117446 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
It was another sucker punch.
I closed my eyes. I didn’t think I could do this while looking at him.
His voice dropped. “I met Calhoun Bastian when I was around your age, had my head filled with thoughts and plans and ideas like you do. I was going to conquer the world, and damn it, I got fucking close.” An edge of regret lined his words. He looked up now, his eyes ringed with the same emotion. So much of it. “I know this has been a long time coming, but for the life of me, I didn’t know what to say.”
About Kash?
No.
Comprehension flared, and I jerked forward.
Oh.
Oh!
Me. He was talking about me now.
I tried to close it down, but emotions surged up. My throat swelled. A lump was pending, and the waterworks were on deck.
No, no, no. I could not handle that.
Not anymore.
But he didn’t know any of that, and he spoke, his tone softening, “Want to know the most humbling moment in someone’s life?”
I frowned.
“It’s trying to explain to the daughter you always knew about, whose mother made the decision to keep her away and out of the limelight, how I wanted to care for her, love her, support her but I couldn’t—and that now, somehow, the reason it had been decided to keep her a secret never mattered, because here she is, her life threatened all the same.”
Whoa.
That was a total knockout.
He got me. Smack in the feelings.
“Um,” I whispered.
Stellar genius, here. Yours truly.
“I have nothing to say in my defense, especially after finally having you here and still not talking to you.” He laughed ruefully. “Your mother chewed me back and forth from China for that one. I got a fresh set of road rage this morning. The tire tracks are still smoking.” A soft laugh, filled with so much regret still.
“Truth is that I’ve no idea what to say to you. Still don’t. I’m here and I’m trying to figure it out, get my legs under me, but I’m failing. I’m totally failing, and I have no idea how to talk to the daughter who’s the most like me of all my kids. Messed up the first time I saw you, too.”
Something was opening in me. Something small, but something.
A small crack.
He kept on, still not looking at me. “I should’ve said this to you the first day you were pulled in after the kidnapping attempt. Hell. I should’ve just tried harder. Then I heard what happened and … shame.”
I was focused on my seat. My hands were picking at the chair.
“I was ashamed. The reason your mother decided to keep you away was the exact reason you were coming to me, and I was elated. I’d finally get to see my daughter in person. Not just a report on my desk, or a sound bite. Or knowing that she was applying for my scholarships, that she wanted a job where I worked. My daughter. Mine.
“You won those scholarships on your own, if you ever start doubting yourself. You did. Not me. I had no bearing on the team who picked the winner, but I was glad. I was damn proud of you, because I was still a part of your life, though there’s no reason you ever need to give me the time of day. You. I am proud of who you have become, and”—his voice dipped—“I am humbled, because all of that was your mother. Not me. I don’t know if you would’ve turned out the way you have if you’d been under my care.”
I knew who he was referencing.
“You don’t give him enough credit.” I lifted my head now. Matt deserved that from me. “Give him structure. Give him purpose. He’ll blow you out of the water.”
He held my gaze, his own eyes filling with a sheen of tears.
He said, “We tried.”
I bit out, “Do it again.” Matt would’ve owned a company by now, if he’d been pushed how I was. He hadn’t been. He was given what he wanted. “Challenge him, but not from disappointment. From pride. From respect.”
Peter nodded, ducking his head and rubbing his hand over the back of his hair. He gripped his neck before dropping and lifting his head again. “I’ll do that. You’re right. I’ve let things go lax since his mother died.” His voice grew thick. “I won’t do that anymore.”
Then we sat there in silence.
I didn’t feel I needed to say anything, to explain myself, to prove myself. Perhaps call me cocky, but I felt my record spoke for itself. And him … He’d already shared enough. Maybe it was good enough for the first real talk between us?
“I’m not going anywhere.” He needed to know. I spoke up, my chin lifting almost defiantly. “Just so you know. I ain’t going nowhere.” Grammar be damned. I spoke from the heart. “Matt. Seraphina. Cyclone. They’re my family.”