Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 124971 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124971 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
I was fully bracing myself for the sting of rejection. After all, Riggs had made it clear I no longer had any sort of hold on him. But he surprised me by sighing and glancing at his watch.
“Fuck. Fine. On one condition.”
I blinked up at him, waiting.
“You’re coming with me.”
Willing myself not to jump to conclusions—it was hard, with my heart soaring madly in my chest—I gave him a curt nod. “I was going to pay him a visit, anyway.”
“Meet you there in an hour?” His voice was flat and disinterested.
“Yes.” I paused. “Where are you going?”
“I have some loose ends to tie up.”
With that, he was gone.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
RIGGS
Charlie wasn’t in his usual room when I came to see him. They’d moved him to another unit, which made finding him a real bitch. There seemed to be an unwritten rule that hospitals were impossible to maneuver. Once I found him, I wished I hadn’t. He was sound asleep in his bed and looked like he’d aged three decades overnight. He was hooked to an IV, and I guessed they’d pumped a ton of painkillers into him. He didn’t look alive. Not by his color or his weight. It looked like his soul—or whatever it was that made people look alive—had already exited the building.
I sucked in a breath, hating him and myself and Duffy for being in this situation. I forced myself to walk inside.
Since I didn’t want to disturb his sleep, I waited. I had no doubt Daphne was going to show up, but I still couldn’t understand what made me want her here. Even if she wasn’t back with BJ yet, the fact that I’d spent the last few weeks drinking myself into oblivion and avoiding the apartment like it was radioactive must’ve shown her I wasn’t boyfriend material. Still, I couldn’t escape her. She wasn’t just in my head; she was in my veins too. A permanent part of my DNA. A fixture I could never get rid of. She consumed me like a snake eating its prey, swallowing me whole.
Twenty minutes after I walked in, Charlie began to stir back to life. More like groaned his way back into it. The man made it sound like it was impossible to breathe, and even though I wanted to take pleasure in seeing him in pain, I couldn’t muster the pettiness.
He opened his eyes, and when he saw me, his whole face lit up. For a second, he looked like my friendly neighbor again.
“Riggs,” he grumbled. His hand twitched. Did he want me to touch it? Well, I wasn’t ready for that. “You came.”
“Duffy told me—” I started, then stopped. There was no polite way of saying “You’re about to drop dead.”
Charlie exhaled. “I’m hoping they’ll pump enough drugs into me that I won’t feel it.”
“You should’ve said something. I’d have scored you some.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Ain’t too late for that.”
I forced myself to laugh, not sure if he was kidding or not.
Awkward silence swathed the room. Neither of us acknowledged the giant elephant inside it, which was my being here after making it clear I would never give him the time of day again.
Finally, Charlie spoke. “So . . . what’s in the bags?” He jerked his chin toward a few paper bags at my feet.
“Ah, yeah.” I reached down, pulling out an Aussie meat pie, a craft lager from Scotland, and Maharaja Bengali sweets from India.
“We haven’t had the chance to get to know each other,” I said ruefully, leaning on his bed with an iPad with a playlist of my favorite songs, movies, and galleries from around the world. “I figured I’ll give you the bulletin points of all my favorites. So when you’re stuck in the elevator between hell and heaven, you can bullshit your way and say you had a son, and that you actually knew him.”
Charlie pressed his head against the flat pillow on his bed and closed his eyes. His throat moved as he tried to swallow in a sob. His chin quivered. I stopped unloading my bags and watched him intently. I’d never seen a grown man cry like that, but I was beginning to see that life had a way of breaking you, no matter who you were.
“You’re my biggest regret.” He shrank in front of my eyes into something small and fragile. “I want you to know that. If I could turn back time and do one thing different, it would be being a real father to you. I know it means jack shit right now. Way too little, way too late. But for what it’s worth—it’s the truth.”
Did I forgive him? No, I didn’t think so. If I did, it was only because he was dying, which was not a solid reason at all.
Instead of ridding him of his guilt trip, I cleared my throat. “How do you know it’s time?”