Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 52598 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52598 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
“How about if we look inside the fridge for Dad? I’ve gotta eat dinner, and snacks ain’t cuttin’ it.” The coffee table shows leftover snack remnants. My girl is a grazer, and I’m one hundred percent her snack bitch.
“Da-da, up!” Josephine holds her arms up in the air once I’m standing from the floor. The living room is a mess of toys, blankets, and pillows from our afternoon. She woke up from her nap and has been balls to the walls ever since.
“I hear you, princess.” I bend down to pick her up. Josephine’s arms wrap around my neck, legs looping onto my hip, and we head to the kitchen. If Emma’s much later, we may need to reassess dinner altogether. Maybe meet closer to her house and grab dinner along the way for all three of us.
“Snack?” Josephine’s hands come away from my neck as I take a few steps, cupping my cheeks to gain my undivided attention. Blue eyes lock on my own; it’s like looking in a mirror with the clarity of the color surrounding her irises.
“Dinner first, then a snack.” Compromising with an almost toddler is not for the faint of heart. If you don’t stand your ground, she’ll give you the puppy dog eyes, wobble her bottom lip, and then you’re on the receiving end of crocodile tears.
“No, no, no,” she starts winding up. I take a deep breath, ready to have a battle on my hands when my phone rings on the island countertop. I never thought I’d be happy for an interruption.
“Let’s answer the phone. It might be your momma.” That deters her from a meltdown over food.
“Ma-ma!” Josephine claps her hands. I plop her on the counter, keeping one hand behind her back just in case, grab my ringing phone, and find an unknown number on the screen.
“It’s not momma, princess. Hold on just a second,” I tell my daughter as her little grabby hands reach for the device.
“Me want.” Yeah, that’s not going to happen. This could be a work call, and while some people have no problem with a toddler, I can’t say the same for others.
“Hello, this is Jameson,” I answer the phone. The unknown number isn’t unusual, not with my line of work, so I figure it’s someone looking for a quote to clear their land.
“Hello, am I speaking with Jameson Evans?” a male voice asks on the other end of the line.
“This is him.” I’m waiting to hear who the caller is.
“I’m Deputy Sergeant Smith calling from Lane County Highway Patrol regarding Emma Kline.” I’m knocked back. My stomach feels like a lead bullet is lodged inside, and I haven’t even heard the rest of the reason for his call. All I know is this isn’t a call anyone wants to receive. Ever.
“Okay,” I croak the one-word answer, worry taking over my entire being as cold sweat coats my body while he talks.
“I’m sorry, sir. Mrs. Kline was killed in a car accident. Your name was found in her phone as the emergency contact listed.” I listen as he explains what happened, feeling as if I’m having an out-of-body experience. “Emma died on impact. A semi lost control after a car cut him off. She tried to change lanes, but it was unavoidable when the blown tire from the semi barreled her way.” The deputy sergeant takes a breath. Whether that’s for me or for him, I’ve got no clue, but I swallow, trying to dislodge the golf ball that’s settled in the back of my throat. “It’s an active investigation. We’re taking witness statements, and I’ll need you to meet me at the hospital.”
That’s when my body freezes, hands pressing Josephine closer as if she’s my rock, and it really hits me. Emma’s gone. Josephine won’t have Emma in her life anymore.
JAMESON
PRESENT DAY
The past week has been a clusterfuck. Emma had a goddamn last will and testament. Josephine would go directly to me, no time sharing if Leah, Emma’s sister, even remotely came back into the picture. Money set aside for school all through the years. Her house would be sold, and the proceeds would go to me in order to help support our daughter. If she weren’t currently buried six feet in the dirt, I’d be giving her a ration of shit. Though, to be fair, Emma was an attorney, so she had shit handled more than other people in their thirties. Hell, I’m not even that prepared, and I’m nearing my last year in my thirties. I swallow the lump in my throat thinking about everything Emma is going to miss out on. Josephine’s first day of school, learning how to ride a bike, and a slew of other moments I can’t even put into words. Christ, it still feels like it’s not real.
“How you doing, big brother?” Matthew asks as he walks up beside me. We’re at my parents’, where Emma’s friends and work associates are currently mingling. My family is here, too, for that matter. It took a bit for my parents to understand that we were just friends, especially Mom. She thought we’d learn to love one another until she saw Emma and me around each other a few times. Then it clicked and she was happy we were both okay doing the co-parenting gig. Leah, Emma’s only living relative, should be here, at least to say her goodbyes, but she isn’t. Something I can’t fathom. There’s a lot of heartache where the Kline girls come from, and it’s a damn shame all the hard work Emma dealt with to get out from underneath her parents went to waste on her sister. Both of her parents were addicted to drugs and overdosed when she was a teenager, forcing her to grow up too damn early. Emma did her best with Leah, but that didn’t stop her sister from shitting all over it. The way Emma told the story, the second Leah hit eighteen, she dropped out of high school and hit the roads running. They talk every now and then, but other than that, it’s like they were two strangers passing on a freeway. One going one way, the other going the opposite.