Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 106147 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106147 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
“There’s not much I don’t eat—except ketchup. My mother didn’t cook much, but when I was about seven or eight, she had this asshole boyfriend of hers move in with us for a while. He used to make us eggs for breakfast and put ketchup all over them. I told him I didn’t like ketchup on mine, and after that he put twice as much on my plate. Haven’t eaten the stuff since the day he moved out.”
“Good to know. I was thinking about adding some ketchup to our sundaes, too.”
He chuckled.
I tucked my feet under me on the couch and pulled a blanket over my lap before shoveling a spoonful of ice cream into my mouth. “So what are we watching?”
Donovan grabbed the remote and pressed a button. The TV illuminated with a half-dozen episodes of The Bachelor.
“Awww. You’re very sweet, but we don’t have to watch that. I know you’re not a fan.”
“How am I going to find out if Kayla’s dad really hits Brad during the hometown visit or not, if I don’t watch the next episode?”
My eyes flared. “You watched The Bachelor?”
“You said you were going to watch the last five episodes if Skye had the flu.” He shrugged. “Figured I had some catching up to do. I got out of court early today, so I binge-watched up to where you left off.”
My insides melted. “I can’t believe you did that.”
He swallowed a mouthful of ice cream and pointed his spoon at me. “If you mention it to Bud, I’ll deny it.”
I pretended to zip my mouth shut over my smile. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
After I finished my dessert, I snuggled next to Donovan on the couch and covered us both with a blanket. At one point, he took a break from his ice cream and rested his hand on my thigh. It felt like it could burn an imprint into my bare skin. I did my best to ignore it. Halfway through the first episode, my cell phone rang. It was on the end table next to Donovan, so he handed it to me. Dad flashed on the screen.
I sighed. “He’s been relentless the last few days. His wedding is next weekend, and I still haven’t given him an answer. My therapist thinks I should go.”
Donovan pushed a button on the TV to pause the show. “But you don’t want to?”
I shook my head and silenced my phone. “I don’t know. We used to be so close, especially right after my mom died. I don’t have much family other than him. My mom was an only child, and both her parents passed away when I was little. But…it’s hard for me to forget how he handled things six years ago.”
Donovan’s eyes roamed my face. “You mentioned he wasn’t supportive after, but did he not stand by you when things went down?”
“He insisted I get into therapy, and he did anything I asked. But he was kind of distant during the entire thing. At the police station, when I finally decided to come forward and report what had happened, I cried the whole time, and the policewoman comforted me. My father just kind of sat there, almost detached. And I couldn’t understand how he could stay partners with Braden’s father after everything he’d heard me say.”
“What did he say when you told him that?”
I frowned. “I didn’t—not at first, anyway. I let all of my anger toward him build for a long time. About a year after everything happened, my therapist convinced me to talk to him. Unfortunately, I did that after having a little too much to drink one night, and the talk didn’t go as it probably should’ve. I was very emotional and said some horrible things, and then I refused to talk to him once I’d sobered up—not very mature, I know.”
“A person who went through what you did handles it however they need to handle it. It sounds to me like you shouldn’t even have had to have that discussion, or deal with any of it.”
“When I refused to listen to him, he went to talk to my therapist. She wouldn’t discuss anything with him, but he asked her to listen to him and talk to me on his behalf. He claimed he’d been in shock for a while, that he saw himself going through the motions with me, but was checked out mentally, sort of like watching a movie about what was going on. That’s why he wasn’t emotional or sympathetic at the time.”
“And you don’t believe that?”
“I don’t know. My therapist says a lot of the things he described to her are classic symptoms of psychological shock. But I just…” I shook my head. “I felt so alone back then, and it’s hard for me to forget. Plus, then there’s his string of marriages and the crazy stuff he’s done over the years.”