Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 55608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
He stares down at his plate of bacon, chewing the inside of his cheek. “I’ve been drinking too much. Sometimes, I’ll even have a few drinks in the middle of the day for no reason, just because I feel like it or maybe because it’s easier than being sober. I don’t know.”
Reaching across the table, I lay my hand on his arm. “Thanks for telling me this. We can work on it together. We can get you help.” He winces, and I push on. “Or I can keep an eye on you. We’ll create an alcohol diary, just like I used to have when I was fighting for food and reps and all the rest of it. At the end of every day, no matter what, you must fill out the diary honestly or the next morning if you were too drunk the night before to do it. It doesn’t matter if you drink so much that it makes you ashamed. You have to fill it out. That’s the best place to start.”
He nods, looking determined, giving me a flare of hope. “Okay, Dad. Yeah, I can do that.”
“Pinkie promise?” I say.
He rolls his eyes, but he’s laughing. He sounds so much younger when he laughs. Sadly, it’s not something I hear often. “Okay, yeah, why not? Pinkie swear.”
We lock our pinky fingers together, and then he tucks into his bacon. I feel we’ve made some real progress for the first time in weeks. I knew he was drinking too much. I’d found the beer cans. I’d noticed his behavior, sometimes as early as one or two p.m., but this is a start. It’s progress. I’ll take it.
After a workout at the gym, I walk into the parking lot, calling Molly on my cell phone. Part of me wonders if she will find it strange that I’m calling instead of texting. Maybe it will make me seem older, but I’m not going to become some texting addict suddenly, and I want to hear her voice. I need to.
“Hello?” she says, answering, sounding breathless.
For a moment, I imagine her in bed with another man. My free hand curls into a fist, tension bubbling through my body and leg as if I’m getting ready for a kick. I’d kill any bastard who touches her, which isn’t right. It’s deranged. I don’t own her. Not yet, at least.
“Hello?” she repeats.
“It’s me,” I say. “Duke.”
“Oh, yeah, uh, hey.” She pauses, laughing nervously. “It’s good to hear from you.”
“What are you doing tonight?” I ask, those fierce feelings of ownership gripping me tightly. “I owe you a date, remember?”
“I’m free tonight,” she replies. “What did you have in mind?”
I realize I’ve got no idea. I haven’t planned anything. I’ve never been much of a dater. “Dinner,” I tell her, sticking with the basics, “and maybe we could take a walk after.”
I wonder if this sounds lame as hell, especially to a younger woman. When she speaks, I’m sure she’s smiling. It’s like I can hear it in her voice. I can imagine the curve of her lips and the light in her eyes. “Yeah, that’d be great. Awesome.”
“I’ll pick you up,” I tell her, then chuckle. “In my car, I mean. Remember, I still have to prove it to you, Molly. The fact I could pick you up with ease.”
Her laugh is so sweet, so welcome. It makes the world a better place. “I think you’re overestimating your abilities.” There’s a pause, and then she gets serious. “Uh, Duke, I need to tell you something.”
“Okay…”
Another pause. I wonder what she’s hinting at. Maybe she’s still in a relationship. Perhaps she wants to wait until marriage. If it were the second one, I wouldn’t give a damn. I’m ready to marry her right now. I can’t say this aloud. Maybe I’ve taken too many hits to the head, but it’s true. I’d get down on one knee in a heartbeat.
“I’m not a fan of seafood,” she says, and I know it’s a lie. She was going to say something else. She doesn’t even sound like she believes it.
However, I’m not going to push her too fast. “Fair enough. Text me your address. I’ll pick you up at seven.”
After hanging up, I lean against the car, smiling like a man with no cares in the world. Despite what Ryan and I discussed earlier, that’s how I feel. On the way home, I call Ryan on speaker.
“Hey, Dad,” he says. “Two secs. I’m just in the library. I’ll go outside.”
He sounds a lot more positive than he did this morning. Maybe this is the day I’ll look back on, marking now as the moment everything finally began to make sense. Ryan got on the right path. I had my first date with the woman of my dreams. Everything slipped into its proper place.