Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 151845 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 759(@200wpm)___ 607(@250wpm)___ 506(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 151845 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 759(@200wpm)___ 607(@250wpm)___ 506(@300wpm)
Like he’s trapped in a maze. Like each step is terrifying.
Handle him with care? We should have a chat about how carefully Becker handles my arse.
Mrs Potts eases up and allows me to pull away, but she keeps her hands on my shoulders, smiling fondly. ‘I don’t know why you weren’t here yesterday,’ she says, and I divert my eyes, worried she might read the secrets hiding in their depths. ‘But you’re back, and that’s all that matters.’
I smile awkwardly and glance to my right, finding old Mr H approaching gingerly on his stick. He might be doddery, but I can tell there’s a little reluctance slowing his pace, too. He doesn’t seem pleased to see me at all. He’s looking over his glasses at me warily, like I’m an imposter. ‘Do you remember that spirit we spoke about?’ he asks seriously, and I nod, recalling the conversation perfectly. ‘Don’t ever let it go.’
I know what he’s saying. He’s saying I need to keep that fire in my belly to deal with his grandson. The uncertainty of it all could swallow me up if I let it. ‘I won’t,’ I assure him. His prompt spurs me to go on and share the news that I’ve recently learned. ‘Becker told me about his parents.’ I give both old Mr H and Mrs Potts a moment of my eyes. They don’t need to know the finer details, like how we came to be having that conversation. That is another of Becker’s secrets I will keep.
I hear Mrs Potts happy sigh and see Mr H’s old eyes shine brightly. ‘I’m glad.’ He looks like the news is a weight from his shoulders. Maybe it is. Maybe he sees the development as a step in the right direction, a display of how serious Becker is about me.
‘Me too,’ I admit, ignoring the knowledge that his grandson was pretty much threatened to spill. But he still told me. It doesn’t matter that he confessed under pressure. It just further reinforces the fact that he doesn’t want me to leave. ‘It’s so sad.’
‘That it is, Eleanor. And the circumstances . . .’ He drifts off somewhere, and Mrs Potts places a gentle hand on his arm, rubbing soothingly.
‘I understand why you’re so adamant about Becker dropping this,’ I say. ‘The search for the sculpture. I understand why you’re civil towards Brent Wilson.’
He laughs. It’s a strained laugh, full of disdain. ‘Forcing yourself to be courteous towards people you loathe is hard, but if it means I get to keep my grandson, then I’m willing.’
My respect for the old man has always been great, but it’s suddenly greater. Only someone with integrity and strength could put such warranted anger aside for the sake of a loved one. The fact that it’s all been a waste of energy for the old man is beside the point, since Becker has kept the rivalry very much alive.
I half-smile on a mild nod, and he takes an unsteady step forward. ‘Give me one of those hugs.’
I save him the effort of coming to me and walk into his arms, feeling so bloody happy. I might join Winston and start trembling, too. Sinking into the old man’s comforting embrace, I smile. That’s it. I’m officially adopting these wonderful people as my family.
Our happy hugs are interrupted prematurely when the door to the kitchen opens. I break away from Mr H, and we all turn and find Becker casting his eyes over all three of us. ‘Emotional reunion?’ he asks. Mr H drops me like a hot potato and tosses a disdainful look at his grandson. My heart sinks a little. Becker wasn’t wrong. He’s still miffed.
Mrs Potts hoots her amusement and claims Mr H’s arm. ‘Happy reunion, Becker boy. Very happy. Come on, Donald. You can help me water the shrubs.’
‘Oh joy,’ he grumbles, allowing her to lead him away. ‘Rock and roll.’
I laugh under my breath, watching them walking together from the kitchen. I swear, I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy. And for the first time in for ever, it’s not accompanied by guilt. My contentment only sky rockets when two firm arms slip around my waist from behind and the hardness of his chest meets my back. A million goose bumps pitter-patter across my skin as I feel his face coming closer to mine. All of this easy affection is the best perk of all. His cheek meets mine, the arm of his glasses pushing into my temple. ‘Glad to be back?’ he asks, a stupid question if ever there was one. I must be glowing.
‘Maybe,’ I tease, laughing when he turns into me and bites my cheek. ‘Your granddad really did look pissed off with you.’
‘I’m working on it,’ Becker says, sounding sincere, and maybe a little thoughtful. ‘I know how much it means to you that I put things right, so I will.’