Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 134531 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 538(@250wpm)___ 448(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134531 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 538(@250wpm)___ 448(@300wpm)
I wished for another tequila shot. I wished for Swiss’s hand in mine. Instead, I focused on the soft clang of dishes in the kitchen, signifying his presence. Signifying that that life, that version of me, and most importantly, Preston, was in my past.
“When you left, something… changed inside of me,” I explained. “I started driving, and didn’t stop until I got here.” I smiled. “You said it yourself, there’s something about this place that pulled me here. Urged me to stay.” I looked over to Swiss in the kitchen, catching his eyes. He was watching me carefully, with concern.
Violet’s gaze flickered that way, too, looking between the two of us.
I rubbed my sweaty palms down my legs, preparing to tell the truth that I wasn’t sure I was going to utter until that very moment. “Your father found me here, darling, because he is a powerful man with a lot of resources. He found me here and he…”
My voice broke, whatever semblance of strength I was holding on to crumbling.
I squeezed my eyes shut, opening them when I felt a small hand squeeze mine. Violet was holding my hand, tears filling her eyes.
“You didn’t have bronchitis,” she guessed slowly.
I shook my head.
“Daddy did that t-to y-you?” she stuttered. I watched her conjure up images in her mind. My daughter had a wonderful imagination, so she was likely trying to match the way I sounded to a violence that she’d never seen first-hand. A violence that had never touched her life… until now.
I nodded. “He did. And it was Swiss who… saved my life.” I decided not to tell her that Swiss had found me naked and half dead in a ditch on the side of the road.
She didn’t need that horrific of a truth.
But it was important to me that she understood Swiss’s part in this. That Swiss, despite appearances, was not the violent man who could hurt me. He was the kind, gentle and loving—and yes, kind of violent—man that saved me. In many ways.
Her eyes slid to Swiss, and they stayed there for a long time before making it back to me. I guessed she was deciding who to address, what questions to ask.
“Why didn’t you leave?” she asked after a long silence. It wasn’t an accusation. Not quite. “The first time.”
She studied my face as if trying to make sense of me imploding her whole childhood and everything she knew in a matter of seconds. “Why didn’t you take me and leave?” Closer now to an accusation.
I smiled sadly at her. “Oh, my darling girl. I hope with my entire heart that you never have to know how such a simple question can be so complicated. I wish with everything I am that you will never ask yourself a question like that.”
I regarded my beautiful young woman with her furrowed brows, with her clear skin, the stubborn tilt of her chin.
“No, my sweet, you will never ask yourself that question,” I decided. “You’re not like me. You’re so much stronger. You know yourself so much better. And despite what your father did to me, he gave you the resources to make sure you’ll never be in the position that I was when he first hit me. He gave you the ability to get an education so that you feel confident. A home where you feel loved, where you were celebrated, nurtured. Despite who he was to me, he made it so you’ll never be vulnerable like I was. And I will make sure you are never isolated like I was.”
I sighed, my eyes filling with tears at the mere prospect of my daughter being put in the position that I was.
I’d kill him. Plain and simple. I’d gladly do the time for murdering the man who dared lay hands on my daughter.
“He is still your father,” I added, taking note of the shadows in my daughter’s eyes. The shadows that had not been there moments ago. “He was still at your softball games, your debates, at your father-daughter dance. I am not telling you this to make you hate him. I do not want you to choose sides in this.” I sighed under the weight I was putting on my daughter. “But you’re an adult. I could not hide this from you even though I was sorely tempted.” I stroked her face. “I told you without any kind of agenda. He is your father, and he loves you. Despite everything else.”
She stared at me, blinking rapidly as she absorbed the information. I gave her a moment. Then another. I was demolishing her world, after all. I was bracing for any and all reactions.
My Violet was everything I hadn’t been. Strong. Passionate. Stubborn. Unafraid to speak her mind, to go toe-to-toe with whoever she thought was in the wrong.