Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 95906 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95906 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
I was so shocked by Con’s admission that I nearly dropped the laundry basket. My breath caught in my throat as the whole, horrible truth hit me.
Con hadn’t gone after Brady out of pure vengeance after Brady had pulled the knife on him and cut him with it… he’d been reacting to a childhood trauma.
I felt sick to my stomach. Sick enough that I ignored the rest of the conversation between Con and Christopher and hurried from the kitchen, dropping the laundry basket on the kitchen table in the process. I barely made it to the small half bath on the first floor before I began retching into the toilet. Tears streamed down my cheeks as my now empty stomach cramped up, but I knew not all the tears were the result of my physical condition.
Wrung out, I rested my head on my good arm after flushing the toilet. I only became aware that I was no longer alone when gentle fingertips grazed my temple. I shook my head because the very last person I wanted to see at the moment was Con.
“Here,” Con said simply. I could sense he was at my level, so I forced myself to look at him. He was holding out a small plastic cup with some water in it. Hell, I hadn’t even heard the water running.
Probably because I’d been too busy puking my guts out. Which meant Con had witnessed at least part of the humiliating event. I took the water and rinsed out my mouth and then spit into the toilet. Con took the cup from me.
“The kids?” I asked.
He shook his head. “They didn’t hear you. Rory roped Christopher into helping her build a castle.”
There was no humor in his voice. If anything, his voice was pained.
“You heard?” was all he asked.
I nodded. I opened my mouth to apologize but then closed it again because what was the point? I’d eavesdropped on purpose. I had no excuse for my behavior. And at the moment, it was the least of my concerns.
“Micah—”
I didn’t let him finish. He didn’t owe me any explanations or truths.
But I did.
It was time for me to face the truth I’d been trying to deny for so long.
“It was my fault,” I whispered. “I killed Brady.”
Chapter Fifteen
Con
I was sure I’d heard him wrong. I’d had to. Because there was no way—
“I wanted to blame you for all of it but it’s my fault. Brady was there because of me and I thought I was helping after and then I saw you on TV and I heard about the checks my dad was getting—”
“Micah, stop,” I said gently because his rambling was so frantic, I couldn’t make sense of any of it.
“No, Con,” he said with a shake of his head and then he was fisting his hands in my shirt. “I have to explain. Please, you have to listen.”
I grabbed him by the upper arms to force him to focus on me. “I know, sweetheart, but not here, okay?” I responded. “The kids might hear.”
Micah paled as he seemed to remember where we were. He nodded shakily and when I went to help him to his feet, he let me but as soon as we were standing, he pulled away from me. The move hurt. Micah must have seen something in my expression because he whispered, “I can’t think when you touch me, and I have to be able to get this out.”
His look was so pained it broke my heart. But I nodded and stepped aside. Micah wrapped his arms around himself and left the bathroom. I followed him in silence and wasn’t surprised when he headed up the stairs. What did surprise me was that he chose my room instead of his. At some point Christopher had started sleeping in his own room so we could have just as easily talked in Micah’s room, but I had to assume he was worried about the kids walking in on us.
When he got to my room, he pushed open the door, waited for me to enter, then closed the door and flipped the lock on it. Just that action had my gut falling. Clearly, whatever he wanted to tell me was something pretty bad. I didn’t believe for a second that he’d played any kind of role in Brady’s death, but his behavior told me that he believed it.
Micah shifted uncomfortably by the door as his eyes roamed over the bed. Aside from buying new mattresses for all the beds in the house after my grandparents had died, I hadn’t changed much when it came to the furnishings, so the only other piece of furniture in the room was an old wooden chair. I grabbed it and set it down across from the bed.
The move seemed to unlock something inside of Micah because he moved forward and sat down on the edge of the bed so he was facing the chair. He was stiff as a board. It reminded me of the early days after he’d gotten out of the hospital. I carefully eased myself onto the chair and waited.