Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Truthfully, that actually rests on Travis’s shoulders, or mine, considering the shit I turned a blind eye to, but the nerve she has right now makes me want to blame her for everything. Surely there’s some trauma from my own childhood that explains why I’ve done most of what I’ve done in my adult life.
I hang up the phone before she can spew any more hatred. Tears sting my eyes because my mother is nothing if not a petty woman, and pride will force her to act against me. I’m certain it’s the only reason she let Ryder go that night in the first place. She put her only grandson in harm’s way in order to prove that she still has the power to control me.
I’ve allowed the cycle to continue. I realize that her call came exactly at the right time, because earlier, I considered that I might have to crawl back to my mother’s house. I had nowhere else to go. If Brent asked me to leave, I’d have no other recourse.
I didn’t want to depend on Cerberus, but now I realize I may have to. I can’t let my pride get in the way of getting my son back.
My son is my life, and the hard truth that he may stay in foster care for the foreseeable future strikes out at me in a way that’s more painful than I ever considered possible. I can’t imagine physical pain hurting more than how this makes me feel.
I climb into my car, leaving a tear-filled message with Mrs. Brunello because even with the home evaluation yesterday, she didn’t give me a new time and place for my visitation with Ryder. I’ll demand it if I have to. Sitting around and just letting shit happen to me can’t keep happening.
I don’t see a judge frowning at me for being insistent about my rights as Ryder’s mother. If I’m allowed visitation then I’ll demand them.
I pull out of the parking lot, wondering just how far I’m willing to go, and honestly, breaking the law crosses my mind.
Could I possibly hurt the person supervising my visitation in order to grab Ryder and run?
I’d like to say no, but I won’t survive without him. That child is everything to me.
I try to shove down the thoughts of going rogue and kidnapping my own child on the drive home, but those thoughts swirl around in my head. I’m feeling reckless by the time I pull into the driveway of the house I’ve been sharing with Brent.
I hold my head high as I enter the house, telling myself that I won’t leave until he insists that I do. I’m done caving. I’m done playing the victim and letting people walk all over me.
I freeze in the entryway, my eyes locked on his shirtless muscular back as he does push-ups in the middle of the living room.
I know he heard me enter, but he doesn’t bother looking my way. It irritates me more than it has a right to.
I close the front door, dropping my purse and car keys on the small entry table, but I don’t scurry away like my head is telling me to. That’s what yesterday’s Sunshine would do, and I can’t be that woman any longer. She gets walked on. She gets taken advantage of. Her meekness is a weakness.
No more.
I stare at him, my eyes raking over his body as he stands, stretching his arms up while staying aware of the ceiling fan in the middle of the room. The man is massive, his muscles growing stronger by the day. He’s nothing like Travis with his skinny arms and legs, the gut he’s gotten from too much alcohol and not enough exercise.
The two men don’t even compare.
I can tell he’s trying to ignore me, all the while staying cautious of me as well. The fact that he may be a little wary of me shouldn’t thrill me the way that it does. It feels like manipulation. As much as I want to be a strong independent woman, I’m honestly faking it until I make it right now.
With my eyes, I demand that he look at me, and when he doesn’t, I inch closer.
His jaw works, the muscles on the sides of his face flex several times. I don’t know if it’s in irritation or what. He could be so absolutely disgusted with me and the story I told last night that he doesn’t even see me as worthy of a conversation.
But there’s that whisper in my brain that reminds me he kissed me after. He knows that his arms are comforting to me. He has offered those more than once, both here and back at the care facility. He offered more yesterday.
I’m not the most experienced woman, but I can sense his attraction to me. I don’t think I’ve been able to hide my attraction to him either. The conversation about pizza the first day we got here proved that.