Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78884 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78884 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
I hang up and sit Indian-style in bed, trying to get the image of Erin and Cole out of my head. I’m still clutching my phone in my hand and trying to figure out whether or not I watered my tomato tree today when it starts vibrating. Cole. I smile—a showing-all-my-teeth, ridiculously goofy, “I feel like I’m fucking fifteen again” smile.
“Hey,” I answer.
“Hey, baby, what’s up?” Cole says hushed.
I always loved that he called me that. Now I wonder if he calls her that. My stomach drops at the thought, and suddenly, I hate it.
“Do you call her that?” I ask a little rougher than I intended.
He laughs—a full-out belly laugh. I hate him. “Why? Would it bother you if I did?”
“No,” I lie as I bite down on the inside of my cheek.
“Yes, it would. If it didn’t, you wouldn’t be asking me,” he replies, and I can hear him smiling. I want to scratch his eyes out.
“Whatever. Don’t answer me. I don’t want to know,” I say annoyed. “I called to ask you if you’ve heard anything from that P.I. of yours.”
Cole doesn’t remember how he ended up in foster care. Maggie said his dad dropped him off when he was a toddler. He only remembers a couple of things before his dad dropped him off, though. One being an episode of Transformers that he watched—very helpful. I spoke to my therapist about it once and she says it could be Cole’s way of blocking out the pain of being abandoned.
He exhales into the line, and I shutter at the chill that goes down my spine. I can almost feel his breath against my ear. “No, I don’t. Why? Did you find something?” he asks, and I can hear the exhaustion in his voice. His P.I. has gotten nowhere on the hunt for his father. I’ve been helping him search, but we always draw a blank. We can’t even find a birth certificate with his name on it.
“No, sorry. Not really. I’m not sure. Maybe,” I say before letting out a frustrated groan. I’m so confused that I can’t even think straight anymore and I don’t want to tell him anything yet. I don’t even know if there’s anything to tell. I’m going on a gut feeling here.
“I’m going to see the lawyer again on Thursday. I had to schedule the meeting with his assistant again. My friend, Aimee, says he’s here, but when I requested him, they told me he was out of town.”
“Damn. That’s so weird, Blake. Let me know what happens when you go.” I hear noise in the background and Erin starts saying something to him, but thankfully I can’t make out what it is. “I have to go, Cowboy. Call me after your meeting. Lo—” I shut my eyes tightly and hold my breath. “Later,” he finishes and I exhale.
“Yeah, good night. Thank you for the necklace. It’s really beautiful.”
“You’re very welcome. I’ve had it for a while.”
“Well, thanks. I’ll talk to you later, then.”
“Oh, Blake?” he calls out before I press End.
“Yeah?”
“Only you.” With that, he hangs up.
I smile to myself because now I know I’m the only one he calls that stupid belittling nickname. And I love it. Yeah, I’m an idiot.
Chapter 4
Past
I couldn’t even bring myself to cry during Aunt Shelley’s funeral. I sat through the services with a blank stare on my face, feeling desolate. I knew there were a lot of people around me paying their respects as I kept my head down. I didn’t see anybody—just darkness. The only thing going through my mind—why does everybody that I love leave me? My answer was the same every time—it’s me...it must be me.
After her casket was lowered to the ground, I sat in front of the gaping hole, thinking about how much it reminded me of my heart. Phoebe—the nosy neighbor I was staying with until I packed up—told me to take as long as I needed. I couldn’t find my voice to tell her that it wasn’t going to be long enough. I sat staring at that hole with a rose in my hand for hours. When Phoebe got up, a man sat in her place.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” he said gruffly, his own voice full of agony.
I remember wishing I could meet his gaze, even for one second, so he could know I heard him. I couldn’t though. I couldn’t let him see the emptiness in my eyes. I’d just lost the last person I had left in my life, and I couldn’t even cry for her. What did that say about me? I wondered. Instead, I sat staring at his shiny black shoes.
“Thanks,” I whispered. He sat there a little while longer, and then I saw his black shiny shoes get up and walk away.