Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 141281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
I’ll never stop loving him.
Never.
“Bruce? Why are you stopping? We’re not at the gate yet,” Evie bites off, staring at my father. I open my eyes and realize we’re not moving.
He’s pulled over on the curb just outside the long, winding entrance to the place.
Dad says nothing.
His hands are bone-white on the wheel, clenching it tight, his head stooped.
“Oh, Christ! Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts? Now?” Evie glares at him and whips her head from side to side. “Well? Will you fucking man up and get this done? You’re not helping her if you sit here and dillydally. We owe our daughter that much, don’t we? She’s all we’ve got left...”
Oh my God.
The way she’s written off Chris for dead sends bile up my throat. There’s not even a tremor of sadness in her voice. More like irritation.
Dad turns slowly and rakes her with an unsure look.
“Let’s not talk about that now,” he says with a sigh. “I just need a minute.”
Evie rakes her file over her nails so loudly I wince.
When I look up again, I see Dad’s eyes glued to mine in the mirror.
Um, are we having a moment?
I guess I get why he’s doing this, though.
He’s coping.
Coping with a marriage mistake on life support, with a stepson who may never come home, with a daughter he’d do anything to put back together again.
He just doesn’t know how.
And so, the witch next to him took the wheel.
I wonder if he’s beginning to understand Chris and me, our love shining through the dense, twisted wreckage of everything else.
Go ahead and check me in. I won’t blame you, Dad, I think to myself, trying to telepathically beam him the message.
I fiddle with my seat belt.
The sound must irritate Evie, who starts thumping her overdone fingernails on the door next to her, tapping harshly in time to the rain pelting the vehicle’s roof.
“Do you mind?” Dad growls. “This is stressful enough.”
“Oh?” She actually sounds surprised until that familiar, lemon-sucking smirk appears. “Poor baby. I’ll fix you a drink and put you down for a nap once we’re home. Let’s just get through this. You know it’s long overdue. If we’d just had her checked out before Chris went gallivanting off to his suicide, we wouldn’t even be here.”
I keep waiting.
Praying Dad boils over, if only for his own sake. I can’t stand watching him just sitting here and taking this crap.
But I also don’t have the energy to stay mad at this awful woman, and I’m holding up the show.
Isn’t it better to just get this over with?
Tearing off my seat belt, I pop the door open before anyone can speak, heading outside into the steady, chilling rain.
Dad turns off the car and runs after me, his footsteps splashing through the puddles.
“Cordelia, wait!” He takes me by the hand the second he’s caught up. “Hold up. I can’t let you do this. I thought it was the right choice—the only choice—but now...”
A rough sound chokes him off.
I freeze, feeling my face heat as Dad hugs me so tight.
The wetness splashing my forehead isn’t just the rain. There’s a drop of something hotter on my skin.
And when I look up and see him crying, I lose it, offering my own tears to the rain.
“Are you kidding?” Evie hisses behind us, slamming the car door as she gets out and stomps over. “Move it! You’re both making this so much harder than it has to be. Hugs and kisses won’t fix anything, Bruce. She needs drugs, doctors, therapy.”
Okay, now I’m pissed.
My head jerks up, beaming raw hatred at her, but it’s nothing compared to the fury in Dad’s eyes.
“Evie?” he whispers.
She looks at him, her eyebrows lifting at the harshness in his tone.
“Kindly shut the fuck up,” he snarls.
Holy crap.
I’m glad he’s still holding me gently or I’d fall right over.
“Oh? Oh, so now you want to be Mr. Tough Guy.” She laughs acidly, a grating sound that makes me want to slap her. “Where was he while his whole family was falling apart, Bruce? Look at you! Literally a few steps away from getting her the help she needs, to get her off this sick, little obsession with my idiot son, and here you are. Standing around, blubbering like a baby.”
Dad slowly releases me.
The rain picks up, pouring down on us like something out of a bad movie while Evie stands her ground, her arms crossed.
And she just won’t let up.
“Ten seconds,” she clips. “That’s the only courtesy you get before I march her up there myself. I won’t wait around all day trying to talk sense to this mantrum in the rain.” She reaches up and brushes her hand through her soggy hair, wrinkling her face in disgust.
She’s way too done up today, wearing this gaudy bumblebee-yellow dress with thin black stripes.