Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 133855 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 669(@200wpm)___ 535(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133855 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 669(@200wpm)___ 535(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
He was all golden hair and sweet eyes and the cutest thing I’d ever seen. I swore, my heart had trembled in my chest the first time I’d seen him sitting at his desk.
Tessa called it a sickness—the fact I got attached to every child who came through my classroom door. But there were some kids—some who worked their way in so deep they would forever hold a piece of me. The part of me who longed for it so desperately, knowing it was likely impossible. My chance passed.
“What did you make for me?” I asked him, my voice light.
He skidded to a stop, beaming at me as he held up the paper. “This! What do you think?”
I knelt in front of him, taking the picture. My eyes caressed the crude drawing, a stick-figure depiction of what was clearly meant to be the two of us holding hands beneath a giant sun, standing on jagged grass.
Affection pulsed through my chest, a throb in the void. “I think it’s beautiful.”
His smile only widened. “Did I pass my test?”
Bewildered laughter filtered free. “Pass your test?”
“I have to get all As, Miss Murphy! Don’t you know, As are the best, best.”
I couldn’t stop it, my hand moved to run over the top of his head. “Don’t worry. You’re doing great.”
His grin widened. “That is really great news. I gotta tell my dad. Did you know my dad is the best dad in the whole wide world?” Somewhere in his ramble, he’d threaded our fingers together and had taken to standing at my side, a jumble of words flying from his mouth as he swung our hands between us. “He took me to the store and got me papers and pens and colors and all’uv the things I need so I can get all the As. I got new shoes, too.”
He kicked out his left foot.
Amusement flitted around my lips.
“He sounds like a good dad.”
“Yup. He is the best. But my uncle said he needs to get some so he can stop moping around being a d-i-c-k.” He lowered his voice when he uttered the letters like he was mimicking the way he’d heard them in the first place.
Tessa choked on the laughter that ripped from her throat, and I whipped around to give her a warning glare. She tossed her hand over her mouth to try to cover it, her eyes blinking furiously as she fought it.
She busted up, anyway, turning away for a beat to hide it.
I did my best to hold mine back, swallowing down the amusement that bounced around my chest.
Tessa turned back toward me, still snickering.
I straightened out the sundress I wore like I could stave off the giggles I could feel building between us, sure she was going to be rolling on the ground if I didn’t put a stop to this.
“Maybe you should go swing some more before school’s over?” I suggested. “I’m sure your dad will be here soon.”
He just tightened his hold. “Nope. That’s okay. I like it right here.”
Right.
Okay.
Tessa kept giggling.
I widened my eyes at her. “Would you stop it,” I mouthed.
“What?” She shrugged. “That was hysterical. And seriously, get some?” she mouthed back. “Um, did you see his dad? He dropped him off this morning, and oh my god.” She fanned herself. “I’m sure he’s getting plenty.”
I swatted at her with the hand that wasn’t wound with the child’s. “What is wrong with you?” I hissed.
But I guessed it didn’t matter because the little cutie had started to sing to himself, oblivious as he belted out his ABCs.
She shrugged again. “Like I told you before, I’m a teller of the truth. But did you?” she baited.
Exasperation filled my sigh. Tessa was relentless. “No. I was in a meeting with my daddy.”
Trying to save this school and his house. Not scoping out the new crop of dads.
That was enough to make Tessa frown, her voice lowering farther. “How is your dad?”
Sadness gathered tight in my chest. A sadness that struck me, lash after lash. Still unable to believe it. “Worried. Heartbroken. Not sure how we’re going to come up with the money, all while struggling to accept she would do that to him.”
I thought he still was in denial. Making excuses for my sister. Refusing to call the police even when we had clear proof that she was responsible.
My father was the most generous man alive. He had his ginormous heart set on saving the entire world, friends and strangers alike. Unfortunately, that meant he got trampled on, more often than not.
But when it was blood? His daughter? My sister? It’d been devastating. A blow neither of us had been prepared for.
Sorrow curled through my spirit, an ache so intense I felt it like a wound. Deep and throbbing.
With everything—with all we’d suffered—I didn’t understand how she could come here and inflict more pain. How she lived with herself after what she’d done.