Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 109176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Once out of the car, we walk into my living room, and I start to pace.
Josephine sits on the couch, watching me. She is most likely confused. Hell, I am, so I don’t doubt that she is too.
She trusted me.
After everything that has happened between us, she trusts me. She got up on that damn ledge again and knew I would keep her safe.
Now it’s time to show her that I trust her.
I continue to pace the room, working up the courage to tell her that one thing I have never told anyone. Once I’m standing directly in front of her, I come to a stop.
The air in the room feels heavier than normal, making it hard to breathe.
Will she understand why I did what I did?
With my head tilted down, our gazes lock.
Her large blue eyes are filled with nothing but love and compassion. She’ll understand. I know she will.
“I need to tell you something.” A nervous feeling weaves its way through my body. Despite knowing how she feels about me, I’ve never told anyone what I’m about to tell her.
Josephine fidgets with her hands in her lap. “Okay. I’m listening.”
I clear my throat. It feels like I’m gargling rocks. “Fuck, I don’t even know how to say this.”
She stops moving her hands and reaches one out to squeeze mine. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to.” I sigh.
She cocks her head, brow raised. “Then what is it?”
“I’m scared,” I admit.
Josephine sits forward on the couch but doesn’t release me. “What are you scared of?”
“I am scared that once I tell you, you will never look at me the same again.”
She gives my hand another squeeze. “Never going to happen.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Then try me.” She tucks a stray hair behind her ear. “But I promise nothing you ever say will change how I feel about you.”
I shrug. “If you say so.”
“I do.” She pats the couch beside her. “Why don’t you come sit down?”
With a shake of my head, I take a step back. “Let me get this out first.” I close my eyes for a brief second, trying to find the strength inside me to tell her. “I guess I should start at the beginning.”
“Seems as good a place as ever,” she responds.
“When I was a kid, my father was really hard on me. He wanted me to be a hockey star. See, the thing was, he had tried, but an injury had crushed his dreams of playing professionally. Then he started to drink a lot.” I draw in a breath. “Drinking ran in his family.” I meet her gaze. “Being an asshole too.” I gesture to myself.
“Stop,” she says.
“I’m not just saying that to be funny. It’s the truth. My father’s brother was a complete degenerate, and while my father looked better on the outside, he wasn’t. He just hid it well. He had a good job. Money. But it was never enough because what he wanted was the Cup. So he set out for me to live his dreams,” I tell her. “Do you know the problem with living someone else’s dreams?”
“No.”
I stuff my hands in my pockets. “They’re never your own.”
“What happened?” She stares at me intently, but I can see the concern in her eyes.
Taking a deep breath, I find the words I’ve held on to for so long, and then on an exhale, I begin to purge myself of my secrets. “It was my senior year, and I was eighteen. I had gone to a party, and at that party, I got into a fight, but because it was Redville and I knew everyone in the town, the cops didn’t arrest me. Instead, they called my father.”
Josephine opens her mouth to speak, but then she shuts it, and I continue. “The problem was my parents had gone out that night. When they got the call, they were only a block from our house. I guess the sitter had to go home, so they got my sister and came to pick me up.”
“What happened?” Her voice is low, almost scared to hear what transpired that night. I’m sure she knows; the bits and pieces I’ve told her probably make what happened that night obvious, but assuming and knowing are two different things.
“On the way to pick me up, they got into an accident, and well, my parents died.”
Josephine lets out a tiny gasp, but I keep going.
“Molly was the only survivor. She had seen them take their last breaths, and it was all my fault. I’m the reason my sister had to see that. I’m the reason she would grow up without a mother.”
From where I’m standing, I can see the tears roll down her cheeks.
“It wasn’t your fault, Dane.”
I shake my head. “It was.”