Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 157175 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157175 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Lip wobbling, she collects me in her arms and hugs me with the force and love that I so need. ‘He would never have let anything hurt you,’ she says, her voice thick. ‘The man was a fucking warrior, and a stubborn one, too.’ I can’t even bring myself to pull her up on her bad language. ‘He’s gone because he knows how much I need you. How much the kids need you.’ She takes my hand and lays it over her tummy. I’m not sure who’s leaking the most tears now, her or me. I furiously wipe at my face, sniffing back my sadness. ‘He’s my hero, too.’ She takes the top of my arm and rubs, frowning when I suck in air. ‘What’s this?’
‘A graze.’ I brush her off, not wanting to worry her. Not that she takes much notice. The short, bloody sleeve of my T-shirt is thrust up, revealing a tidy hole in my arm.
‘Oh my God!’
‘It’s fine.’ Once again I fight her off and once again she wins, slapping me away. ‘Ava, for fuck’s sake, it’s fine. Stop flapping.’
‘Have you had it looked at?’
‘I’m in no mood to be poked and pulled about.’
She snorts, pointing to the paramedic hovering nearby. ‘Now, Ward, or so help me.’ Her expression is fierce as she scrubs at her wet face, and I shrink where I stand, thinking better of arguing back. I don’t speak, and I also don’t move, so Ava seizes my hand and all but manhandles me to the ambulance. ‘Don’t make me hurt you, Ward.’
Wide-eyed, I let her shove me onto the back of the ambulance and onto a waiting bed. She’s taking no prisoners. And through my crippling hurt, anger and guilt, I manage to locate some gratitude.
My wife is back. All of her is back, and it’s back with a fucking bang.
Chapter 56
Eight months later
Nothing can prepare you for the loss of someone you adore with every fibre of your being. Nor the grief or heartache that accompanies that loss. A big hole has been left in my very existence by the loss of John, yet my heart is bursting with joyful memories. He was never far away, always there to pick me up when I fell down. His life was dedicated to me. To watching over me, to keeping his promise to his best friend. John was a good man, the best, and no matter how I try to angle my thoughts, he didn’t deserve to go. It wasn’t his time.
Lauren, however, needed to die. That may sound sadistic. Maybe it is. But all I’ve wondered is how draining and damaging it must have been to live with so many demons. The reality is, I can’t. I’ve been in some pretty dark places. Have wanted to give up. But the victim in my journey through self-destruction was me and me alone. I never set out to hurt anyone. I never wanted revenge.
All I really wanted was inner peace.
As I sit on the steps in the garden, I watch Ava negotiate her pregnant belly to dip and pick up the hose. And I think for the first time in my existence, I really do have that peace. It’s a blanket around me, warm and secure. It defies reason, really. More trauma and stress have been stirred into our already overflowing pot of shit, yet now I feel almost tranquil. Initially, after we walked away from that barn, I wondered how we would ever get over what had happened. The elation of Ava finding her memories was saddened by the loss of John. I got myself in a state over the twins, what they saw, what they heard.
It was only when we sat down with a family therapist at the suggestion of the liaison officer that I really realised that my babies truly weren’t babies any more. Not with their level heads, their matter-of-fact approach. I’d underestimated them at every turn. Tried to keep them wrapped up in cotton wool and protected from the world. I failed. My past caught up with me again, but the twins looked at me that day, square in the eye, and told me that they were proud of me. Not ashamed like I feared they would be. They were proud of me.
I broke down, didn’t even try not to. I’m human. I’m a dad. A husband. My family is both my biggest weakness and my greatest strength. I live and breathe for them, and that will never change. Until the day I die, it will always be about them.
I look over my shoulder when I hear Maddie talking, seeing her wandering back into the house with her phone to her ear. She’s talking to some boy. My instinct is to go after her, to confiscate that fucking phone. But I wisely stay on my arse where I’m safe from my wife’s wrath. Maddie’s twelve. How serious can it be? I growl at her back and shake my head, returning my attention to the garden before I change my mind and go and trample her arse.