Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 84829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Holding it gently, he scrutinized the scars on my knuckles, where the skin was paler than the rest of my hand.
“Lasers. Bleaching cream. Alpha hydroxy. Lanolin cream…I’ve tried it all.”
“Are they dead? Because if they’re not––”
“He’s been dead for ten years. She died two months ago.”
He turned back around, facing the wall. “How can you be so cool about it?”
That induced a cynical smile. He was angry on my behalf and wanted me to be angry too. But I couldn’t meet him there. Anger hadn’t served me. It had only managed to keep me closed off. My past was more barren than not, the rest was littered with the carcasses of so-called relationships that never lasted more than three months––if that.
“I’ve been processing it all my life, Scott. I’ve got a head start.” He got quiet, head bowed, and I began feeling increasingly uncomfortable, the water turning cold, telling me I’d overstayed my welcome. Maybe I’d said too much. Maybe he’d see me as weak now. My mind went straight to all the negative stuff. “I don’t want your pity, Scott.”
That was the last thing I wanted or needed.
“You don’t have it,” he said softly. “You have my admiration.”
Chapter Sixteen
Scott
“Can you please leave?” Laurel glared at me from above the rim of her reading glasses. “You’re being very annoying, Scott. Hey, I got an idea––why don’t you go home and annoy your wife?”
Laurel went back to doing payroll.
A few days after Sydney’s confession and I still hadn’t recovered. That and her brush with death. Rationally, I knew she was out of danger, but I couldn’t get the rest of me to accept it. I couldn’t silence the voice that said it was my fault she’d almost been killed. That I’d been seconds from losing her because I’d been, once again, caught up in my own bullshit.
Consequently, I’d been cutting my workday shorter and shorter since the accident––anxious to get home and see for myself that she was alright––when what I really wanted to do was stay home altogether. But, no, she’d demanded that I not hover, so I’d physically gone back to work while my mind remained elsewhere not doing anybody any good.
“All I asked was a simple question.”
“And the simple answer is the same one that I’ve given you the last four times in the last half hour––no, the doctor has not called. Take it from a woman who’s raised five boys. If the doctor doesn’t call with an MRI result right away, then it’s good news. It’s when they call that you should worry.”
We’d had a few days of sun and mild weather, and the snow was beginning to melt. Out the picture window of my office, I could see a few crocus blades coming up. Spring wasn’t too far off and so was our busiest time of year: calving season.
“You know what, I’m going home.”
Laurel glanced away from her computer. “What a great idea. Tell Sydney I said I’m sorry, but I’m no saint.”
“We’re going to have a long discussion about your attitude when I’m thinking right,” I said, walking through the door.
“Sure thing, boss,” I heard her reply with a chuckle.
The call came in on my ride back home, the Star Wars theme filling the cab of my Ram pickup.
“Hey, Dad…so are we doing that now, texting?”
As soon as Sydney had fallen asleep the day of the accident, I’d called Dad to tell him what had happened. The call had gone straight to voicemail, but that wasn’t what got my attention. It was that I received a text in return, wishing her a speedy recovery. My father hated texts. He once chewed out Charles Barkley for texting instead of calling.
“I’ll make this brief,” he said, ignoring my question. Then he coughed. It sounded wet, and a soft rasp remained even after he’d cleared his throat. To say it concerned me would be an understatement. My father wasn’t a young man and walking pneumonia could sneak up on anyone.
“You don’t sound good, Dad. Have you seen a doctor?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. You sound like you could be getting pneumonia.”
“Listen to me, Scott. I’m talking to the board about appointing Sydney as acting CEO at the end of the month. They’ve had enough time to get comfortable with the idea of your marriage.”
I nodded as he spoke, but my head was still on the cough. I’d lost people I loved in the past because I hadn’t paid close enough attention, hadn’t pushed the subject when I should have, and I’d lived to regret that decision. I sure as fuck wasn’t going to let it happen again. “I’m calling Mom to make sure you go see a doctor.”
“Call your mother because she’s your mother and she misses you, but leave me out of it…” It was easier to convince one of my bulls to behave. “How are things with Sydney? She told me you were giving her a hard time.”