Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 141951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 710(@200wpm)___ 568(@250wpm)___ 473(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 710(@200wpm)___ 568(@250wpm)___ 473(@300wpm)
It was what it was, yes.
For a long time, he’d tried to think how it wasn’t what it could be, though, and wasn’t that worth the effort? Didn’t it count for anything? Now he understood everything was exactly as they’d made it out to be—it had practically nothing to do with him. So, why keep trying?
“Don’t call me for anything,” he added, shrugging, “not for her, not if she’s dead … not for one single thing. Do you understand me?”
Hanson drew in a deep breath. “That’s a little much, son.”
Really?
They never even got close to that.
“Oh, fuck off,” Lucas returned, his sardonic laugh filling the quiet space partitioning them from the rest of the dining guests.
It paid to be a Dalton.
“Stop it, someone might hear,” his mother snapped, sloshing her drink when she made a messy grab for it to take a sip she still choked on. Penelope let out a phlegmy cough. “Isn’t it bad enough I’ve already got people calling me at all hours of the day because your brother did what he did?”
“He relapsed and overdosed, Mom. Say it. I know you don’t like those words because they come with responsibility,” Lucas added with a shrug. “Doesn’t change what it is, huh?”
“We all know—”
Lucas dismissed whatever Hanson planned to say with a flick of his wrist. “Not you.”
“Lucas, don’t be like—”
Something inside Lucas finally snapped.
“Go to hell, Penelope. Jacob wanted to change, and even if he failed in the end, I hope it kills you to know at least he tried to get back up once. Whatever, you’re too busy hiding from being blamed for why he was the way he was, anyway, because you can’t change.”
Hanson stood fast from his chair, casting a shadow of disappointment across an unconcerned Lucas who tipped his head sideways to look up and dead stare the man.
“Lad,” Hanson said, his Nova Scotian childhood coming out thick, “I’m going to need you to show some respect.”
He had to be six-foot-three, easy. Eye-to-eye, or close enough, to Lucas. He lacked the solid two-hundred-plus pounds of muscle Lucas grew into before he had even hit puberty. Built barrel-chested with a back and arms meant to work, passed on to Lucas from good genetics and a hearty family bloodline that could be traced back to Denmark, Russia, and Germany. Hanson, on the other hand, was lanky enough that a good shove from Lucas could seriously hurt the man. Lucas opted to continue his lingering stare down, letting the obvious speak to Hanson so he didn’t have to.
I would murder you.
Lucas didn’t need to say it when his eyes did so for him.
“Coming here was a waste of my time,” Lucas said, breaking the silence first.
“Stop it, we’re all just a little worked up,” his mother scoffed, eerily gleeful.
The fact she could enjoy this triggered Lucas all over again. His first instincts had been right. Nothing would ever stop the toxicity from bleeding freely inside their family.
“This is over,” Lucas said, ignoring the man who sat down again without a word, and deservedly embarrassed. Hanson could lick his wounds another time. “And I knew it was over before I even agreed to come here today. Enjoy what’s left of your life—look at me like I’m dead, too, because to you, I am. Finally, you can be childless like you always wanted and smothered in affection from a man who’ll apparently love you right into a grave. Is it as beautiful as you thought it’d be?”
He let that question be the final words he planned to say to his mother. Choosing to draw his last line—more like a wall to keep her out—came with the best relief he’d ever felt in his whole life. Like a weight had just been thrown from his shoulders. His steps were lighter than he thought they’d be on his way to the front of the restaurant where he grabbed his coat and apologized for not waiting on the server, but put his card down to prepay whatever bill Penelope and Hanson racked up.
He didn’t want their damn food, anyway, but that was probably the best few hundred dollars he’d ever spent on a meal in his life.
Lucas had just exited the downtown eatery and crossed the street where his Bronco sat with chunks of ice clinging to the wheel wells when a figure slipped out the doors, as well. Focused on getting into his vehicle and starting the engine to hide from the cold, he didn’t notice his mother’s husband until Hanson came to stand outside the driver’s side window.
He glowered at the man, but didn’t roll down his window. “What?”
That should be clear enough, right?
Hanson lifted an envelope where Lucas could see, prompting him to roll down the window a couple of inches to grab it. “A few pictures—your mother thought you’d like to have them. Better you than her, she said. You’ll do something meaningful with them.”