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)
Including his patience.
Or lack thereof when it came to his father.
A grounding method had been suggested by his therapist to allow him at least ten seconds of mindfulness before he cut out at Ronald with whatever response was on the tip of his tongue.
One breath in—count to five.
Let it out, and count again.
Simple, right?
If only.
Lucas came out of the technique still wanting to bash his father’s brains across the desk. The amount of hostility his father brought forth in him actually scared him sometimes. He was ashamed of himself that this was the position where he seemed stuck up against Ronald.
“You’re never happy anyway,” Lucas said, “so even if she did everything exactly as you wanted her to—and she would try her hardest, because she’s a perfectionist but struggles with ADHD that she’s got diagnosed on record which is on her health insurance forms you undoubtedly looked at.”
The drawer where Nola’s file could be found was slightly ajar to the rest of the five in the cabinet. Just how fast had Ronald moved from one side of the office to the other in and effort to hide what he had been doing when Lucas came down the hall?
Yeah, he looked for everything.
Didn’t miss a click.
Not when it came to good, old Dad.
“Which I know you know,” he told his father, shrugging one shoulder as he rounded the front of the desk where he stood with his arms crossed over his chest. He nodded at the fifteen rows of filing cabinets against the back wall of the industrial styled office. “Let’s not pretend that you don’t dig through personnel files like it’s not past time reading for you, Ronald. It’s interesting to see that not much has changed no matter how long you stay on the other side of Canada, eh?”
His father’s dark, bushy brow jumped higher. “Excuse me?”
Lucas wasn’t done. See, his father had gone ahead and so easily made a rude remark about a woman he knew nothing about at the end of the day. A forgettable moment in Ronald’s day chalked full of negativity and toxicity, maybe. On Lucas’ end of the spectrum, however, he gave a shit about the young woman who was the eldest daughter of a guy he used to work out with, and couldn’t let the casual disrespect of people Ronald cared nothing about pass.
“Not that it would matter to you,” Lucas said, keeping a stone-straight face as he delivered his next words to his father to make sure everything was clear, “but that young lady uses her pile of notes as a way to dump out her most important thoughts during the day so she doesn’t lose them. I noticed one day, and—”
“Lucas—”
“Shut up, Ronald,” Lucas interjected at a decibel below raising his voice.
His father’s jaws snapped instantly shut.
“I let Nola make me a pile of notes as well,” he continued like the two of them hadn’t missed a beat. “And since they’re not meant for you to begin with, I haven’t the first clue why you felt the need to comment on them. Other than purposefully looking for a way to make a jab at a twenty-two-year-old secretary who really likes her job.”
Lucas smiled, then, but sadly.
Ronald had barely even blinked.
No, he sat there and stewed.
Fumed, really.
A knock behind Lucas on the office door dropped his blood pressure instantly. He knew who it was without turning around.
“Come in, Nola,” he called.
She pushed open the door with a creak. “Are we still doing the meeting at ten-thirty, or—”
“Move it up fifteen?” Lucas asked. “Please.”
“Sure, and um … are we doing the usual?”
Right.
Who knew how long this shit with his father would last?
Lucas decided to give everybody a reason to smile and give a bit of grace today. “We’ll do the donuts and coffee for lunch. And pizza, for the plant. Yeah? Could we find somebody who could get that done in a couple of hours?”
“Someone will,” she assured.
There were a whole city of restaurants capable of making pizza.
“Thank you,” Lucas said over his shoulder, smiling at the wary-looking Nola who hadn’t completely come inside the office.
Her gaze snapped back to him with a puckered brow. “Otherwise?”
Her way of asking—as she always did throughout his day—if he was okay.
“Otherwise, nothing,” Lucas confirmed with a shrug of one shoulder.
Nola nodded before retreating. The door closed, leaving Lucas alone with the cold reality of his father still sitting in his office.
“I’ll head that meeting today,” Ronald said, dragging Lucas’ gaze back to him instantly where he shook a finger in the door’s direction. His smile, cunning but cruel, turned on his son. “I don’t think you’ll mind, right? Otherwise, I’ll head the table in my chair while you talk from the side. Hmm?”
Ronald even raised his brow high like that was a real question.
Seventy-five to twenty-five.
It wasn’t real.