Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 58727 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58727 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
“Get one of your associates to look into Gene Chubb and the EPA,” Austin says. “You do have associates, don’t you?”
“Of course, I do. But your father didn’t like for me to use them. I’m the only one he trusted.”
I stop myself from raising an eyebrow. Jonathan Bridger trusted this guy and no one else? Big red flag. One I’ll make sure Miles doesn’t overlook.
“We are not our father,” Chance says. “We are your clients now. I want this looked into first thing in the morning.”
“You got it.” Mr. Shyster—er…Shankle—makes a note in his phone.
I take another sip of the sweet lemonade. It soothes my throat, which still aches from the sobs I gulped down.
Louisa enters from the kitchen. “Lunch is ready. I set a place for Mr. Shankle and Ms. Hopkins.”
The lawyer stands. “Thank you, Louisa, but I can’t stay. I’ll see you first thing in the morning, nine a.m. in town at the station.”
Chance stands and sees Mr. Shankle to the door.
“You’re staying for lunch.” Miles says to me, not asking. Commanding.
“I’m not sure I can eat,” I admit.
He reaches out, strokes my hair. “You have to keep your strength. This’ll drive you crazy if you don’t.”
“It’s already doing that, Miles.”
He leans over and kisses my lips. “You’re not alone. Do you hear me, Sadie? You’re not fucking alone.”
21
MILES
* * *
I watch over Sadie like a hawk and make sure she eats at least one taco. I down five myself. This whole thing–our father, Joey’s body, the mystery surrounding all of it–is such a clusterfuck, and I’m feeling every morsel of pain that Sadie is, but I never lose my appetite. Once lunch is over, I’m tempted to take her to my room and help her forget everything, but instead, I want to focus on her. On her needs. Not mine.
Perhaps they coincide. But if they don’t? Her needs are going to come first.
These feelings I’m having for her are…disturbing. So unlike me. I’m totally focused on a person besides myself.
I’ve never been a selfish lover—any woman who goes to bed with Miles Bridger is always satisfied—but after that, I rarely think of the woman again. What she may need, what she may want. They knew the score going in. But this, with Sadie? Neither of us were keeping score.
“Would you like to go on a walk?” I ask her. Getting her to forget with orgasms is an option, but I have to offer up others.
She shrugs. “I don’t think I can. There’s something I need to do.”
“What’s that? I will make it happen.”
She sets her small hand on my bicep. “You can’t make this happen. Only I can.”
I give her my best grin. I can definitely give her orgasms if that’s it. “Try me.”
She gives me a light swat. “I need to talk to my mom. I need to tell her about Joey.”
Shit. Right. Of course she does. I think so little of my own mother that I forget other people have one. One who understands love.
“Why did you go to your father first?” I ask. It’s not like they got along.
“You know why. Because I thought he might have information on Joey and what he was doing. Even if this Chubb guy turns out to be a dead end, I’m still glad I went. It’s always good to be reminded what an asshole the man is.”
“Baby…”
“You don’t forget stuff like that,” she continues, “but you romanticize certain things over the years. For example, I haven’t seen much of my father since I was eight, so I tend to focus on the good memories I have other than the bad. Or should I say, the one or two good memories as opposed to the dozens of bad ones.”
That’s where Sadie and I differ. I never met my father and I don’t have one romanticized memory about my mother. At all.
“Do you want to tell me about one of the good ones?” I ask, prodding her to open up, at least about the upbeat things.
Shaking her head, she steps back. “No. I don’t want to give my father any thought right now. I need to figure out how I’m going to tell my mom that her son is dead.”
He’s been missing for a few years. Sadie hasn’t heard from him and she didn’t mention that her mom had. “She probably already suspects it.”
“Well, of course, she does. We both did. But this is final, you know?”
I stroke her hair. That makes sense. “I’m not trying to belittle this. Forgive me when I don’t say the right thing. I don’t have a lot of experience with…”
Her head tips to the side as she looks up at me. Right now she looks so much smaller. Tiny. Fragile. “With what?”
“Well, with death, other than my father, who I didn’t even know. But I was thinking more along the lines of caring about another human being. My father didn’t give a shit. My mom was more interested in her latest man than me. I don’t really know what it’s like to be cared about. Or to care about someone in return. The way I care for you.”