Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
“Barely a teenager. Before I moved in with them, I lived with my mom, her boyfriend, and his kids. I didn’t bounce around like the other guys did.” I lift our hands out of the water and bring her fingers to my lips. “She was a good mom, not in the traditional sense, but she made sure I had a roof over my head and food in my belly. She tried.”
“What happened?”
“She was a dancer. Her longtime boyfriend and her used to drink a lot, and when they drank, they’d fight because he was jealous.” Even thinking about it has that rage I’ve kept buried bubbling to the surface. “Stupid, since he didn’t work, so the money she made provided for him, me, and his kids. He didn’t want her to stop dancing, even though he hated it. Normally, I’d be around when they were home, so I’d step in if things got physical, and he’d back off.” Her fingers around mine tighten. “I wasn’t home.”
“Miles.” She starts to turn and face me, but I stop her and clamp my arms around her chest, then bury my face in her neck.
“He strangled her, then panicked and called 911 himself when he realized she wasn’t waking up.” Her soft body pressed against mine goes rock-solid. I’ve only ever shared that information with a therapist and my brothers. Hazel doesn’t even know what happened to my mom. She just knows the aftermath of me moving in with the Patrick’s, the foster family who took us all in. “Since the only family my mom had was her sister—and she was struggling with her own four kids, so she couldn’t take on another mouth to feed—I ended up with the Patrick’s.”
“Can you please let me go?” The quiet plea has my gut twisting, and I loosen my hold. She doesn’t get up; instead, she rolls to her belly and presses her chest against mine while wrapping her arms around my middle. She holds me as tightly as I had just been holding her moments ago. “I’m sorry.”
Jesus. My throat gets tight. I’ve heard those words thousands of times over the years, but that was the first time I’ve felt them like a balm.
“It was a long time ago.”
“Yeah, but I’m still sorry your mom was taken from you.” The tears in her voice make my jaw ache as I grit my teeth.
She doesn’t say more, and I don’t try to fill the silence. Instead, I hold her until the water cools, then I help her out of the tub and wrap her in one of the towels hanging on the warming rack. With a towel around my waist, I walk her into the bedroom and dig through my drawers for something she can wear. Settling on one of my old college tees, I pass it over to her and grab myself a pair of boxers and sleep pants and put them on.
“Are you up for watching a movie?” I ask, turning to find her swimming in my shirt, the material hitting her mid-thigh and so old parts are almost transparent.
“Sure.” She watches as I pick up one of the remotes next to the bed and hit the button that makes the thin flat-screen TV rise out of the footboard. “That’s pretty fancy, Mr. Thatcher.”
Laughing, I watch her climb up on the mattress, then pull the blankets up over her waist. “Do you want popcorn?”
“Yes.”
“More wine?”
“No, just water.”
“All right.” I pick up another remote, then lean across the mattress toward her. “Find us something to watch.”
“Do you have a preference?” she asks, her eyes dropping to my mouth.
“Nothing too girly.”
“I’ll see what I can find.” She smiles, then leans toward me for a kiss that I would have given her anyway.
Standing at the microwave, I place a bag of popcorn inside then look at the door when it opens and watch Hazel step inside, with Winter right on her heels.
“Hey, she wanted to get a couple of her stuffed animals for bed and to give you a hug,” Hazel says as Winter runs across the room to me.
“That’s okay.” I pick her up and wrap my arms around her tightly, kissing the side of her head.
“Is Emma here?” she asks, leaning back to look at me, and even from across the room, I can see Hazel’s body get tight.
“She is. We’re getting ready to watch a movie,” I say just as Emma steps out of the bedroom, now wearing a pair of my sweats and a hoodie over the shirt I gave her. Obviously, she heard Winter and Hazel arrive and got dressed.
“Emma.” Winter wiggles for me to put her down, then rushes to where she’s standing awkwardly just outside my bedroom door.
“Hey, honey.” She smiles down at Winter, smoothing her hand over her hair. It’s something she probably doesn’t notice my daughter leans into each and every time she does it.