Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 159208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 796(@200wpm)___ 637(@250wpm)___ 531(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 159208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 796(@200wpm)___ 637(@250wpm)___ 531(@300wpm)
Again, that killing silence.
“What’s done is done. Also, Doctor Dubuque isn’t a lunatic and he’s a good role model for my son, so I can’t say I regret anything. So go to hell.”
No remorse.
Did the witch ever care about Wyatt at all?
My jaw tightens, remembering why that question stabs me so harshly today.
“Are you bringing Micha to see him or what?” I demand, the only question that matters.
“I don’t know. That’s asking a lot. I don’t really want to tell my new husband we’re road-tripping to Seattle to visit my ex. Micha has a few good memories of his father—before he came back batshit crazy—and he has a few bad ones too. He’s not at a good age to deal with all that.” Olivia pauses and sighs. “How bad off is he?”
“He might have a fifty-fifty chance of survival at best. I’m not sure he’ll pull through.” I’ve seen him like this before. She hasn’t.
Last time, he only came out the other side for her, for his family. That won’t be a reason to fight this time. I have to hope Micha is, if he can hear his son somewhere through his coma-fog.
“Well, I’ll think about it. I just don’t want my son exposed to that homeless freak and his problems...”
Can she piss me off more?
“What problems? He’s not going to be drinking in a hospital room when he can’t even open his damn eyes. He’s comatose. You’re acting like you’re taking the kid to see him in prison, but it’s a hospital.”
“I’ll talk to Doc about it. I’m not sure.”
I can’t believe she calls her husband Doc. Like the entire world needs to be reminded she hooked herself an MD every five seconds.
“Think fast. If 'Doc' doesn’t give you permission, understand that I will have every carnivorous attorney I know forcing a visitation issue. I’ll call in every corporate favor I’ve ever been owed. I’ll hire a PI to find out what hospital Doctor Dubuque works for, and if I don’t know who owns it, I’ll buy out the main fucking stake.” I inhale sharply. “You, Olivia, will regret the day you were born if you don’t get that kid in here to see Wyatt. This could be their last chance. I’m sorry shit didn’t work out for you and Wyatt—actually, I’m not. It was mostly your fault. He loved you too much, the poor idiot. Now, it’s time for you to grow the hell up.”
There’s a chiming sound.
She hung up on me.
Predictable.
I mash the phone back into my pocket and let my head thunk against the window.
She doesn’t care if Wyatt lives or dies. She has no guilt for leaving him after he lost his leg and his life.
It’s hard to believe they were ever happy. When he wasn’t on duty, they were inseparable.
She cried the day we deployed.
Olivia and I never got along, but the day we left, she begged me to bring him home safe.
Whatever she is now, I loathe her.
About as much as I hate the way I haven’t had time to deliver Dakota’s well-deserved apology. I’ve been scrambling to take care of Wyatt.
Maybe it’s better this way.
If this is where love always leads, fuck everything about it.
If things ever got so bad that Dakota didn’t care if I lived or died, if I hurt her, I wouldn’t want to keep existing.
You’ve already hurt her plenty, jackass, a voice in my head hisses.
Regrettably true. I’ve just got to find the nicest way possible to let her down.
This can only end in a storm of tears and anguish. What’s the point in causing us both more grief?
Louis pulls up to the hospital a minute later and lets me out.
Soon, I’m parked in the chair beside Wyatt’s bed, my pulse hammering so thick the noise engulfs my ears.
“Micha’s coming to see you. You’d better wake up to see him. Will you do that for me, man?”
No response.
I take a deep breath and lean back into the chair.
“I talked to Olivia today to get the kiddo to come. No fucking clue what you ever saw in her.” I clear my scratchy throat. “I know you two loved each other once. When the divorce first hit and you took it so hard, I thought you were overreacting. But now—shit.”
Total silence.
He’s asleep, Linc. Just get it out.
“I finally understand. If I woke up with Dakota in my arms every morning and she just up and told me one day she didn’t want it anymore—you’d have to make room in that bed. I’d lose my mind. I couldn’t run my company. I couldn’t function.”
I lurch to my feet, moving to the window, looking out at Seattle.
It’s a clear, vibrant day that already looks like summer. It contrasts sharply with the darkness swirling in my soul.
I don’t know why I’m here.
I’m just talking to myself.