Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 84496 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84496 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Shelby smiled widely and began walking towards us. She was more beautiful than ever with her long blonde hair tied up in a sleek ponytail. Her yellow sundress flowed around her legs as she picked her way down the walkway towards us.
I stepped past Jonas once she reached us and wasn’t surprised when she pulled me against her for a hug. “I’ve been so worried about you,” she whispered.
“I know, I’m sorr-”
Shelby put her fingers over my mouth to stop my words and then she leaned in to hug me again. “Welcome home, Mace.”
I sighed and wrapped my arms around her, mindful of the baby between us. “Shel, I have some people I want you to meet,” I said and then I pulled back enough so I could introduce her to my men.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Cole
“I think it’s perfect,” I said as I sat down in the bay window and looked around at the clean walls and polished hardwood floors. “When can we move in?” I asked Mace as he closed the closet he’d been checking.
“As soon as we stop at the furniture store and order a bed,” Mace said as he came up to me and leaned down and covered my mouth with his.
I shuddered at the feel of his tongue sweeping over mine and when he finally let me come up for air, I said, “I’ll pay for the same day delivery charge.”
Mace chuckled. “I think we need to break it to your father first,” he said.
It was my turn to laugh because somehow the tables had turned in the three months we’d been living with my father. “After last night, I don’t think he’ll have a problem with it.”
Mace looked at me as he settled down on the bench next to me. “Mrs. Pellano, again?”
I nodded. “Caught them making out on the living room couch like a couple of teenagers. I think I permanently damaged my eyes.”
As Mace laughed, I marveled over the change my life had taken since the day I’d walked into Jonas’s studio to find out why my sister had been stolen from me.
My father’s journey to sobriety hadn’t been an easy one but he’d been diligent in working his program and on the occasions where he’d been close to breaking, Mace had recognized the signs and went with him to AA or got him in touch with his sponsor. He’d also started seeing a therapist to deal with the brutal way Carrie had been taken from us, and I’d accompanied him on more than one occasion.
After waking up in the hospital, I’d been confused by what was happening and how I’d gotten there. I remembered nothing of the shooting and I’d struggled to understand not only my injuries but the ones I’d seen on Jonas’s face. But the hardest part was the guilt I’d seen in Jonas’s eyes as he told me how sorry he was for what had happened. I’d been prepared to lay into him for blaming himself but then Mace had leaned over and kissed me and then whispered, “He’s working on it,” in my ear. That was enough to silence me.
Having my father at my bedside had torn me up because I could see how he was suffering as he struggled through his withdrawal symptoms. But he only left when he physically couldn’t bear it anymore and had to be sedated to get through the worst of it.
In recent weeks, he’d started doing some consulting work for the Navy and when Mrs. Pellano had asked him over to her house for dinner, he’d gone. I hadn’t initially liked the idea of him with my mother’s best friend but when he came back home looking more at ease than he had in a long time, I’d realized that it would take time for me to get used to seeing him with any woman who wasn’t my mother. I knew it would be hard to leave my father but his therapist and sponsor had assured me that he was ready and that he had the tools and resources he needed to deal with his addiction.
The townhouse Mace had found was only a few miles from Jonas’s studio and I knew that would thrill Jonas since he’d been making the daily commute back and forth from New Haven after Mace had finished the repairs to his studio. He taught daily art classes and spent the rest of his day painting, but no matter how long he worked, he always made the long drive home to be with us.
Mace had started working for a local security firm that specialized in protection training. His relationship with his parents had blossomed and we spent at least one weekend a month with them in Philadelphia. Shelby, her husband and their daughter were constant fixtures at the elaborate family dinners Mace’s mother would put together during our visits. My father had come on a few visits as well.