Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27896 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27896 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
That sounds just like my father. Of course, he’d find a way to bind her to the family. He’s always believed in keeping his enemies close. This is straight out of Jack’s playbook. The only question now is how I can fix this for her.
I’m silent for a long time, running the options through my head. There has to be a way to make this better. I’m not stupid enough to believe that she’d stay married to me after I fix this mess. But I can’t stand the idea that she’s only with me to save her father. That’s not love, that’s coercion. Fuck my father. Fuck his crooked dealings. Fuck him for taking the only woman I’ve loved away from me.
“Now you know.” She pushes herself off the counter. “I’ll grab a sip of water.”
I reach for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. If there were ever a moment to be miraculously given back my words, this would be it. But they’re all lodged in my heart, trapped by the emotions I can’t even begin to unpack.
She gives me a sad smile. “It’s not your fault.”
As soon as she leaves the bathroom, I march into my bedroom. I search through my stuff until I find my phone. I will fix this, starting tonight.
There are three missed calls from Roman, and a voice message. I listen to him recount the details of Andrew’s marriage. It didn’t take his hacker long to put the pieces together. But it’s the final part that has my heart sinking, “Her dad was transferred to the hospital today. Suspected pneumonia. He’s in rough shape. They’ve been trying to get in touch with her. I sent you a text with the hospital address.”
As soon as the message finishes, I take my phone to Cadence and play it for her. Her face pales. For a moment, I think she’s going to cry again. “He’s my whole world.”
I touch her shoulder. Before our marriage, I never would have understood what she just said. But now I do. Because this beautiful woman in front of me is my whole world.
She stands there unmoving, and I realize she must be in shock. I lead her to the bedroom and help her into a pair of yoga pants and one of her t-shirts. I pull her hair back into a ponytail and help her into shoes. The entire time, I’m doing my best to reassure her. It’s all coming out as a jumble of words, but she seems to calm at the rumble of my voice.
The trip down the mountain takes longer than normal because I’m driving through the snowy roads in the dark. I won’t risk an accident with her beside me, so I send up a prayer that her father lives. That she gets to see him again. That by some miracle, I can untangle all of this.
When we arrive at the hospital, we’re directed down a hall to the room where her father is being kept.
The guard outside stops me because I’m not considered immediate family. I growl at him, prepared to take him down. There’s nothing that will keep me from supporting my girl right now when she needs it.
But Cadence puts a hand on my chest. Her touch instantly settles me, and I flick my gaze to hers.
She gives me a sad smile. “It’s probably best if he doesn’t see an Abernathy. You should…you should go.”
The words are like a dagger to my chest. I want to be here. I want to support her. I want her to know that she never faces anything alone again.
She continues, oblivious to the way she twists the dagger. “This was a mistake. We should see about a quickie divorce.” She lifts her chin, ever the defiant queen. “Thanks for what you’ve done. I’ll find a way to help my father from here.”
Then she leans up on her tip toes and presses a soft kiss to my cheek. She disappears into her father’s hospital room while I’m left staring after her. I don’t know what the hell gave her the impression that we were a mistake, but it’s one more thing I plan to correct.
10
CADENCE
I’m staring at a ghost. He used to be ten feet tall with a head full of gray hair and the imposing stare of a man half his age. But here under the hospital lights in the jail uniform, my dad looks sallow.
His breathing is slow and measured, every breath a struggle even with the oxygen tube attached to his nose. But it’s the metal cuffs around his wrists that have me pressing a hand to my mouth. I hate the way he’s chained to the bed like an animal. I can’t even give him a hug.
The officer in the corner barely acknowledges my presence. He’s clearly decided I’m not a threat, so he continues sipping his paper cup of coffee and staring at the TV with the constant stream of news chatter.