Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 71832 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71832 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
A few days later, I’m back at the hospital. Iain looks sunken in his sheets, but his eyes are less haunted now, less red and swollen. He sits up, drinking water through a straw and painstakingly shoveling yogurt into his mouth. “You know the cliché about hospital food?” he asks. “It’s all bullshit.”
“Oh, yeah?” I lean back in my chair, smiling a little.
“It’s the most delicious stuff in the world.” He talks through mouthfuls of yogurt. It’s gross, but the guy’s got multiple gunshot wounds, so I’m cutting him some slack. “When you’re almost dead, anything’s good, and this stuff is basically divine.”
“I’m jealous.”
“You should get shot then. It’ll do wonders for your appetite.”
“No thanks. Probably not worth the hassle.”
“Or the hospital bill.” He sighs, rolling his eyes. “Believe it or not, I do have good insurance, but this shit’s going to cost me.”
I pause for a long moment, the silence hanging between us. “You know that’s not true,” I say quietly.
He shrugs. “It’s fun to pretend, right? I mean, we both know who’s footing the bill for this stuff.”
“I thought you liked that about him.”
Iain glances away. “He’s generous. That’s true. But his generosity always comes with strings. I didn’t see those strings when I was a kid, but they’ve become clear to me over the years.”
I shift in my seat, trying to resist the urge to ask more questions, and failing miserably. “Tell me what it was like to work with him.”
He considers that. “Carson’s like an alligator lying in the sun. He’s motionless, content, looks almost happy. Except the moment he needs to move, he’s lighting quick and always goes straight for the kill.”
“That’s Carson, but what was it like to work for Carson?”
“Mostly good. Sometimes awful. It shouldn’t be a big shock, but he’s controlling and likes to micromanage everything. We got along well though.”
“You two are friends.”
Iain puts his cup down. “We’re as close of friends as I think Carson’s capable of having. Except for his brother, I probably know him better than anyone.” He stares at me and I can’t bring myself to meet his gaze. A million thoughts rip through my mind, but Iain manages to hone in on the one that hurts the most when he says, “You’re wondering if he really loves you. If he’s actually capable of emotion like that.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. “We should talk more about how you’re feeling. I’m not the one that nearly got killed.”
“He does.” Those words are like bombs exploding along my skin. “In his own, sick way, he really does.”
“I don’t want to know. Please, drop it.”
“But I think you do. It’s too late now, isn’t it? You married him. You lived with him for a few days. You felt what it’s like.”
“What what’s like?” I already know though. Only I don’t want to hear it stated out loud.
Iain grins at me. “Come on, Ash. Admit it. Carson’s attention is addictive. Everyone around him feels that way, and he so rarely gives himself to anyone, it must’ve been like mainlining heroin constantly basking in the glow of his undiluted personality. I’m almost jealous. Except I think I’d go insane if I had to put up with him all the time.”
I look up at the ceiling, at the water-stained tiles. He’s right, and I hate that he’s right. Carson’s attention was incredible, like standing in the spotlight as an audience applauded me at all times. He worshipped me in a way I bet nobody’s ever felt before, and it was incredible, an otherworldly experience. I’m only coming out of it now, like waking from the perfect dream.
And I want to fall asleep again.
But I know it’s more like a coma, like a place away from the real world.
“Is that how you felt with her?” I glance up at him. We haven’t talked much about the reason he got shot to begin with.
His expression clouds. “Yes and no.”
“You loved her.”
“I did. I still do. Enough to fuck everything up anyway.”
“You didn’t mean to get her pregnant.”
“No,” he says and lets out a long breath. “But I also loved her enough that I wasn’t being careful.”
“It’s not your fault, what happened to the family.” I only half believe it, but it’s what Iain needs to hear right now.
“Dad’s dead because of me.” His gaze slides to mine. He’s not crying, but his eyes are haunted in a deep, ceaseless way, like a silent scream echoing in a lonely cavern miles below the earth.
I lean forward, taking his hand. “Dad’s dead because he got involved with organized crime, not because you slept with the wrong girl.”
“Actually, Dad survived organized crime for years. You’d be surprised how safe it can be, if you’re smart.”
“You know what I’m saying. Because of Dad, you got involved with Carson, and because you joined the Crowley organization, you ended up meeting that girl—”