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)
The old man’s lips purse, though he doesn’t speak.
So Becker goes on. ‘Because you couldn’t let it go, either, could you? You kept that piece as a private trophy.’
The old man sinks into the bed on a heavy sigh. ‘My stick is in the wall.’
Becker gasps his shock, and I close my eyes again, so tightly, maybe to escape the crazy I’m faced with. Now what? I can’t let him go off and hunt for that sculpture. I can’t risk losing him. This is beyond my ability to handle.
The torrid tale of his parents plays on repeat in my head as I open my eyes and look at Becker. He’s in a trance, and I can see his mind spinning, plotting and planning. He’s already looking for that damn sculpture again. ‘No, Becker,’ I warn.
He stares up at me blankly, giving me nothing. So I take his arms by his biceps and dig my nails in. ‘Do you hear me?’ I grate, my temper getting the better of me. I can’t help it. My panic is escalating with each second he remains quiet, knowing he’s thinking too much. ‘Do you hear me?’ I shout, crashing my fists into his shoulders viciously. I’m not letting him do this. Not to us, and especially not to himself. ‘Tell me you hear me.’
‘Vengeance for my parents, Eleanor,’ he says calmly.
I start shaking my head fast, tears springing into my eyes. I knew it. I knew he didn’t mean it when he told his granddad that he was through. No more searching. No more obsessive need to hunt down what may not even be there to find. He never had any intention of giving up. He’s incapable of it. ‘No.’ I say quietly.
The seriousness in his hazel eyes terrifies me. ‘Yes,’ he replies.
‘I’ll leave you.’ This threat is all I have, and I beg it’s enough. The tears break and tumble down my cheeks as I frantically search my mind for more words to throw in his face in my desperate attempt to discourage him. ‘I’m guaranteed, Becker. A life with me is guaranteed. There’s no guarantee you’ll find what you’re looking for.’ My words become broken and my body starts to jerk as he watches me falling apart. ‘You’ve lost too much already. Please don’t risk us,’ I sob. ‘Please don’t make me live without you.’
His vacant beauty just stares at me as silence descends, and reality hits me. I can’t live my life in fear of losing him. I drop my gaze as I toy with the ring on my finger, swallowing down the lump of despair in my throat. What’s more important to him? It’s a stupid question – one I wished I’d never asked myself. Because the answer hurts.
‘Eleanor?’
I look up, finding Becker watching me, his eyes wide and wary. I stare right back, my mind a muddle of confusion. Then I slip the ring from my finger and hold it out to him. Becker shakes his head, stepping back, refusing to accept it. So I place it on the sideboard.
Then I turn and walk out. I can’t feel my legs. I can’t feel a thing, aside from the awful ache in my heart. I’m not enough for him at all. I’m not his priority, and of every mad thing I’ve accepted, I can’t accept not being number one to him.
‘Eleanor,’ Becker shouts, coming after me. ‘Eleanor, no, wait.’ He grabs my arms, and I swing around violently, wrenching myself free.
‘No,’ I grate, and he recoils, his face falling.
I back away slowly and leave him feeling lost, refusing to look at anything as I wander aimlessly through the corridors of The Haven. I refuse to slip into the kitchen and say goodbye to Winston. I refuse to admire any of Becker’s treasures as I enter the Grand Hall.
And I refuse to cry.
I’ve sacrificed my integrity and morals for Becker Hunt. I gave him everything. My trust, my devotion, my heart. My all. And he can’t even give up one thing for me.
‘Eleanor?’ Old Mr Hunt’s frail voice hits me from behind, and I stutter to a stop. Like an omen, I’m within licking distance of the chair where Becker proposed to me. ‘Dear girl, just hold your horses for a moment.’
I clench my eyes shut, silently begging him not to make this any harder than it already is. ‘I’ve accepted so much, Mr H,’ I say, hating that I can’t control the distress in my voice. ‘I can’t accept this.’
‘Accept what?’
I turn and look at the old frail man, astonished. He needs to ask? ‘You know as well as me that he’ll go looking for that sculpture. I can’t hang around worrying if he’ll come back to me. I can’t do that.’
‘You’re a part of this family now, Eleanor. Don’t leave us.’