Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 88114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“I didn’t know.”
“You all knew. Your family forced her into it, bit by bit, and you ignored it until she was too far gone to save.”
“You went with her. Don’t forget that.” He stands, a big man, a strong man. Beautiful in his way. Terrifying. “You can blame me and my family all you want, but you were there. You held the needle. You cooked the shit. You plunged it into your veins just like she did. Don’t tell me I’m responsible.”
I release one hard sob and I feel like I’m going to be sick. I try to walk past him but he doesn’t let me. He pushes me back against the wall and glares at me, breathing hard, rage in his eyes. I look back and let the tears roll down my face, because he’s right and he’s wrong, and nothing really matters. Not anymore.
“Marry me,” he says through his teeth. “Be my wife. Do the right thing for once.”
“I can’t.”
“You can and you will.” He shakes his head, his hands moving down to grip my hips. God, it feels good, his fingers biting into my skin. Why’s he touching me like that? Like he’s going to kiss me right now? I want him to hold me harder. I want him to make it hurt. “You didn’t stay here for seven years out of the goodness of your heart. You didn’t stay because you love it. You have an agenda.”
“I love the gardens.”
“Maybe you do, but you have an agenda.” He’s so close, his hands holding me like we’re intimate. It’s the nearest to a man I’ve been in a long, long time—maybe since ever. “I can help you and you can help me. Cait’s gone and she’s not coming back. We can blame each other all we want, but why don’t we do something to the people that are really responsible?”
“Your father’s dead.”
“But the rest of the family’s still here.” He grips me harder and pins me with his body. He’s so warm and muscular and he’s like a crushing wave ready to hold me down against the ocean floor. He’s ready to drown me. “Help me, Tara, and I can help you.”
With that, he recedes. He backs away and I’m left breathing hard. He throws back his drink and gently places the glass near the sink.
“Thanks for the drink,” he says and walks out.
Chapter 6
Kellen
I knock softly on Mom’s bedroom door and step back as the nurse answers. She’s an older woman in her fifties named Eunika with a heavy Polish accent and a stern glare. Exactly the kind of woman I’d trust with my mother’s care.
“How’s she doing today?”
“Today is a good day,” Eunika says, crossing her strangely muscular arms. “Do you want to see her?”
“I was hoping I could wheel her out back and talk.”
She nods slowly and I think there’s the barest hint of a smile on her lips, although maybe I’m imagining things. “Still early enough. Not too hot. Come in and ask, I think she’ll like that.”
I follow her into my mother’s room. Hugh is away attending to the construction business which means he can’t hover over my shoulder and make sure I’m not fucking him over. Which obviously I want to.
But right now, I just want to sit with my mom and talk like we used to.
Some part of me breaks to see my mother this way. Wizened, older than her days, eyes somewhat blurry and blank, but she recognizes me when I approach her bed and she smiles. So many memories come back with that smile, and I feel like a little kid again, looking up as she strolled along the gardens with me, laughing at my nonsense jokes and encouraging me to tell more stories. She was always encouraging me at whatever I did back then and it was like water to a man dying of thirst, just that small bit of approval and love.
“Mom,” I say, kissing her cheek.
“Kellen. Where have you been? I feel like we haven’t talked in a long time.” I don’t have the heart to tell her that we spoke just yesterday.
“I’m home for a visit. Do you want to sit out back with me? It might be good to get some fresh air.”
She smiles, brightening just a touch. “I love the way the gardens look right now. Have you seen them? They’re so lovely, even better than when you were young.”
“I have.”
“Aren’t they beautiful? It’s all thanks to that new girl. What’s her name again? I have it on my tongue but I can’t quite get it out.” She laughs, covering the fact that it obviously bothers her that she can’t remember.
“Tara,” I say, feeling a pulse in my guts. Mom knows Tara very well—Tara was around constantly back when Cait was alive, and it’s just one of many signs pointing toward my mother’s illness that she can’t remember.