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)
Nola’s next words helped him in that regard. “Anyway, I know you probably have a lot of personal calls and things to catch up on …”
“Too much,” he filled in.
An understatement, really.
Every voicemail belonging to Lucas, work and personal, had been filled with messages from people, some he hadn’t spoken to in years. Friends from his high school days. People connected to Jacob, either through his recovery programs, college, the gym, or his time with the animal rescue, filled his phone and email with text messages.
How did they even get his number and email?
Lucas stopped asking that question after the first thirty he clicked through—reading the words of people who Jacob had touched, in one way or another, became a way for Lucas to find hope in his current darkness. His brother couldn’t be forgotten. It wasn’t even a matter of whether he would be forgotten—that wasn’t possible. The people who loved Jacob, struggles and mistakes included, found a way to show Lucas as much.
He intended to get back to each person, in one way or another. Some by reaching out for a conversation, because he’d admitted to himself that his responsibility-filled life took him away from his brother more than it should have lately, and some of Jacob’s friends had extended the invitation to chat or even meet. Others, he simply wanted to thank for taking the time to think of him, and for reaching out, after learning about Jacob’s passing.
He’d get through it all.
Eventually, anyway.
Lucas needed the time to get through the mountain that had built up during his time away. He came home to a mailbox full of personal letters sending love and condolences. In the city, the news of his brother’s untimely passing had managed to get around before it came out in the papers, but Lucas had left it all behind.
Or rather, he put it on pause.
“So, I guess I’ll let you go,” Nola said. “Call me if you need anything, but everything at work is fine. Before you ask, because I know you will.”
Lucas laughed. “I would not.”
No doubt, the brewery had continued running at top speed from the moment he chose not to walk through the front doors. It might be a busy time of year with the accounting department closing year-end books and the plans for the new year being put into action, but it wouldn’t all go to shit because he didn’t show up for a few days.
Ronald would make certain of that.
Of course, Lucas’ absence would be just another weapon for his father to use in one way or another, but Ronald had already pulled the proverbial trigger first by announcing his return to the province on the same day Jacob overdosed.
There came a point when Lucas couldn’t be polite.
They’d hit that point now.
“But you should know, Lucas …” his assistant hedged on the other end of the call.
He could only imagine.
The way Nola eased their conversation into whatever she had to tell him and waited until the end of the call to fit it in, already had stress crawling over his shoulders to tie them into invisible knots. He tried to focus on the far view of the east end leading down to the horse track cloaked in a sheet of crisp, white snow instead of the irritation caused by a mention of his father.
Don’t apologize for doing what you have to.
You say when enough is enough, Lucas.
If they’re not helping, then they’re hurting you.
The words might not be exactly as Delaney had told them to Lucas, but he repeated the sentiments silently to himself all the same. Apparently, he needed the reminder. He couldn’t take care of anyone else if he didn’t prioritize himself first.
“What?” he eventually asked.
Might as well get it over.
Rip it right off like a Band-Aid.
“He’s redecorated the big office,” Nola said. “Already.”
Surprise.
Ronald had his own priorities.
Lucas sighed into the hand he scrubbed across the facial hair on his chin and jaw that he’d trimmed into a goatee after his early morning shower. “And my things?”
“They’re boxed and in the storage room beside Kimmie’s office. I guess it’s not going to be a storage room if you’re in there now?”
Ah, their head of accounting. At least, he’d have a worthy neighbor. Nobody worked harder than Kimmie. The silver lining kept him from focusing on the blank, windowless space that was better suited for old boxes of paperwork piled high than a desk where he would be expected to work.
He didn’t say that out loud.
“Perfect,” Lucas returned.
“It’s not really, is it?” Nola asked.
“No, but I won’t let my father know as much, either,” he said, ending the call with a quiet goodbye after.
He couldn’t afford to let Ronald think he had any control over him, really. Negative, or otherwise. Look where giving that kind of power to his father had gotten him so far.