Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 73043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Like right this second, I was watching her bite her lip as she watched a Hallmark movie—which I could hear running in the background. She was switching between playing on Facebook and Instagram, intermittently glancing up at the TV when something caught her attention.
I couldn’t figure out if she was crying because of what she was watching on the TV or if there was something else that she was thinking about.
Whatever it was, I felt sick to my stomach.
I didn’t like to see her cry, and I most certainly didn’t want her doing it in the dark of her living room while she sat there looking so sad and lonely.
I wanted to ride over there and wrap her in my arms—even though I didn’t understand why.
Which made me mad.
Every single thing there was to know about this woman—Janie—was gone. None of it was there.
Apparently, according to Trace, I’d known Janie for a really long time.
Really long meaning years and years.
But that was all Trace had given me.
He’d clammed up the moment I’d tried to dig for more.
In fact, everyone had.
I’d even gone as far as to ask James, Janie’s father, and I was left in the dark.
It was really starting to irritate me.
Speaking of irritants, my phone rang, and I lifted it up off the couch at my side and placed it to my ear.
“Yeah?” I muttered, recognizing Trace’s ringtone.
“You got a bug in the church?”
I rolled my eyes. “You know I do.”
After my accident, I’d been busting my ass to get myself up to speed with the investigation I’d started—one that was very near and dear to my heart.
Layton Trammel, the man who had singlehandedly left me a near eunuch. My balls were very near and dear to me…literally and figuratively.
And Layton had been such a dick about it.
When I’d tried to file malpractice after I’d recovered enough, I’d gotten a strong lecture from my CO that I needed to ‘forget it and move on.’
When I’d pursued, I’d been given another lecture, this one consisting of me being told that if I didn’t ‘cease and desist,’ I would regret it.
I almost did because I’d tried to pursue it, nearly receiving a dishonorable discharge for my efforts.
And so, the feud had been born.
“Yeah, well, Layton just made a stop over there. He’s talking with a deacon for their church, and he’s got a lot of good stuff to say about you. He thinks you’re going to be the ‘perfect goat.’
“Goat,” I repeated, making sure I’d heard him correctly.
“Goat,” he repeated, “As in ‘scapegoat.’”
I gritted my teeth. “Scapegoat for what?”
“I don’t know. But they’ve been talking about a few things for about seven minutes now. They want to meet up later on to confirm details. That later on being some time tonight after dinner with you.”
“I wasn’t aware I was having dinner with him…”
“Well, I’d wait and not make any plans. I’d also play nice and say you can come despite your immediate reaction of ‘go fuck yourself.’ Okay?” Trace added gruffly.
I snorted.
The man knew me so well.
“Yeah,” I grumbled, my eyes going to the laptop again. She’d gotten up and moved out of the screen. “Did you find out anything else about the girl and our engagement?”
“You weren’t engaged the last time we spoke before your accident,” Trace answered hesitantly. “But you also said you’d found out something, so maybe in order to get that information, you got engaged to the chick. I don’t know, man. I’ll keep an ear to the ground, though. We’ll get you out of this.”
I heard him say something else under his breath, and I strained to hear what he said, but I could barely make it out.
He’d been doing that a lot. Saying things softly, as if he wanted to tell me something but couldn’t quite work up the nerve.
Him, and everyone else.
I could’ve sworn it had something to do with ‘stubborn girls,’ though.
“All right,” I finally sighed. “But Trace, if there’s something you need to tell me, you should tell me now. I know I’m missing something here.”
“Did you ask your sister?”
“Yeah,” I grumbled. “She had no clue I’d even had a girl in my life. Which then pissed her off all over again because I wasn’t coming home enough.”
Trace started to chuckle, then sobered. “Don’t beat yourself up. You’ve bridged that gap with her, but it’s her that has to take that last step. You can’t do it all.”
No, I couldn’t.
But the guilt was never-ending.
My sister had been in a bad situation…then again, so had I.
It was either leave her behind, where I had the promise that she would be happy and healthy or take her with me and run.
And running was no place for a child.
She grew up happy—ish. She grew up healthy.
And she’d found the love of her life…which was more than I could say for me.