Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 78807 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78807 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Dara, my wife, my good fucking girl.
“Lie low. Don’t contact me. Just keep waiting. I promise, I’ll come for you. I won’t forget, no matter how long it takes.”
“I believe you.” She holds my hands for another few seconds before finally tearing herself away.
Pride blossoms in my chest, pride at how she’s stepping up and doing the hard thing, but pain strikes that feeling down as she gets into the car.
I tell the driver what to do. He nods, rolls up the window, and pulls the car around.
I watch them go, catching sight of Dara in the back seat staring back at me, her hand on the window.
“It’s for the best,” Carson says from the steps. “Better alive than dead.”
He’s wrong. This isn’t for the best.
But for now, I have some murder to commit.
Chapter 40
Dara
I step out of the cab at my childhood home and stare at the crumbling house.
The shutters are off-kilter. The grass is too long. My dad’s car looks like it hasn’t been washed in years and definitely hasn’t been updated since I left home. I slowly approach, sweat pooling under my arms. It’s an average neighborhood and most folks work hard to pay their mortgages around here, but most of the other houses are much better maintained than my parents’ place. It breaks my heart, to see it like this.
I didn’t want to come back here, but I didn’t know where else to go.
I’m nervous as I stand out front. I called ahead and told my dad that I was coming, but even still, I feel like I’m a total stranger. I haven’t seen them in person in a couple of years now and only spoken to them on the phone on holidays. The thought of going inside that house repulses me, back into that nest of quiet resentment, but I force myself to knock and wait for them to answer.
My mom appears, looking surprised to see me. She’s holding a glass of wine and wearing sweats. Gray streaks her hair. More gray than the last time I saw her. “Dara,” she says. “What are you doing home?”
“Dad didn’t tell you?” Of course he didn’t. They never communicated when I was younger, but it must’ve only gotten worse.
“He didn’t mention it,” she says, tone vague as if that’s totally normal, and gestures for me to come inside. “It’s so good to see you. This is unexpected, but it’s great.”
The house is exactly like I remember with only small changes, like a new TV, some new pictures on the walls, but otherwise it’s the same couch, the same chair, the same kitchen. Mom sits me down at the table and drifts around, looking for something to feed me, sounding awkward.
I realize with a start that she doesn’t know about the baby. She doesn’t know that I’m married to Finn.
Mom doesn’t know anything about my life and hasn’t for a long time.
We’re almost strangers.
“What brought you home for this surprise visit?” she asks, sitting down across from me after accepting that there’s no food in the house.
“I told Dad, I was hoping I could stay here for a few days. While I get back on my feet. I’ve been through some… some hard stuff. I won’t be here for very long.”
“Oh, uh, yeah, of course you can stay,” Mom says, not sounding excited about it at all, but she manages to pat my hand. A very motherly gesture, at least coming from her. “We cleaned out your bedroom, but you’re welcome to the guest room.”
“Thanks.” I sit back, feeling so awkward I could shatter. “Lucas dumped me.”
“Oh.” She frowns for a second, clearly trying to remember who he is. “Right, the boyfriend. I’m sorry.”
“But I got married.”
“Oh.” Her eyebrows raise as she glances at my hand—and her jaw drops.
Shit. I forgot about the diamond.
I hold it up, grinning sheepishly. I’m willing to bet she’s never seen a ring like it in person before. “His name’s Finn.”
“Wow, that’s beautiful,” she says, reaching out to touch the diamond, but stopping short. “You’re married. To a man that can afford this. Wow, that’s just… that’s amazing. But where is he?”
“Back in Boston. I left him there. We had some problems, and I just—”
Instantly, Mom sits up straight, staring at me with narrowed eyes. “Did you come here to get away from him?” She tilts her head, more awake and intense than I’ve seen her in a very long time.
“No, it’s not like that, it’s more—his family.”
She nod sharply. “Marriage is hard, Dara. Marriage is really hard.” She glances toward the kitchen door. “You can stay as long as you like. Stay until you’ve worked things out with your husband.”
“Thanks, Mom.” I feel a lump in my throat. She’s agreeing so readily because she knows what it’s like to be in a difficult marriage. This is the first time I feel like my mother understands me and actually gives a damn about my life, and it really kills me that we’ve come to this.