Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 111038 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 555(@200wpm)___ 444(@250wpm)___ 370(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111038 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 555(@200wpm)___ 444(@250wpm)___ 370(@300wpm)
“I don’t know what those women have on you, or what they’ll get you charged with, but you will not do a goddamn thing to pull myself or my mother into it with you. You are alone. You got it? Alone. You’ll not utter her name or my name once during the entire process, or you will have worse things to deal with. There’s no statute of limitations for child abuse in New York. Remember that.”
I stepped back, and Zeke rushed in.
He’d been standing right behind me, and he went around to grab one side of Griffith. Brian took his other side, and the two of them dragged Griffith from the house.
I knew Zeke would call one of his dad’s private service cars. The driver would take Griffith to a hospital, and he would stand with him the entire time, pretending to be there for him, but he’d act as a spy.
And I knew this because Zeke was my best friend. He glanced back just before hauling Griffith out of the door. His eyes met mine, and his chin went up.
I nodded back.
I might not have my brother’s crew, but I had Zeke.
“Blaise,” my mom whispered.
I turned.
Tears streamed down her face, and she looked stricken.
“I never knew.”
I saw the emotions crossing her face, and I shook my head. “I never wanted you to know,” I said, my voice rough. “I never wanted anyone to know.”
“Baby.” More tears. She bit her lip, and that reminded me of Aspen.
I wanted my girl, but that’d have to wait. I lifted my arms, and my mom stepped into them. She broke down, clutching me.
I knew, in the logical part of my mind, that this wasn’t my fault. I’d been the victim. But I’d chosen to keep it hidden from her. So in a way, it was my fault too. I was the cause of my mom feeling this pain, and I hated myself for it.
Then again, I usually hated myself. This was par for the course.
Zeke had done exactly what I’d known he would, and he’d come back in after the car took Griffith away. He gave me the numbers for the driver and guard that’d be with Griffith until the hospital released him, and then he asked what I wanted.
I told him to take off, and he nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
He left with the rest of the guys.
After she broke down for the fourth time in my arms, Stephen had taken my mom into the bedroom. They’d been in there for two hours.
I didn’t know why I was waiting, but I was. I moved to the back porch.
Maybe I’d been waiting for this moment, though I wasn’t at all happy about it, now that it had arrived.
Cross stepped out on the back porch and sat in a chair beside me.
“He—”
I stopped him. “Get lost.”
“The fuck?”
I turned to him.
I didn’t give two fucks about anything.
“Get lost. Not your life. Not your problem.”
He sat there for another beat, and a disgusted laugh ripping from him. He shoved up, shaking his head. “Fucking prick.” He crossed the patio, and a second later, he was gone—he and his friends.
Good riddance.
I waited another hour.
It was dark by then.
It was cold by then.
I saw nothing, and I felt nothing.
I’d read that once you finally share your deepest secret, you’re supposed to feel free. That was bullshit. It had just imprisoned me further. I was pinned down, experiencing it all over again—every emotion, every memory. Now I would wait, holding my breath while everyone who’d heard my secret had the power to further hurt me or give me nothing in response.
There was no freedom.
There was no love, or healing, or warmth.
A victim.
I was a fucking victim.
I’d never said the words, but I knew that’s what I’d been.
I hated him because he’d done this to me, and I hated myself, because I wasn’t a fucking victim.
No. I just hated life.
I hated fucking life.
Then there was movement at the door. I heard it slide open.
I didn’t look, but I knew it was Stephen. He was the only one still operational. My mom was probably passed out by now.
“Did she take a valium?” I asked the darkness.
He was quiet as he crossed to take the chair his real son had sat in earlier. He eased down slowly. I heard a crinkle and looked over. He had an ice pack on his face. “Yeah.”
I nodded. “She’ll be out till tomorrow. You’ll have a full night’s sleep.”
“The fuck I will,” he said.
I turned to him.
His eyes burned. “I just learned one of my sons has been physically abused. You think I’m going to sleep tonight?” He shook his head. “You must have no clue how much I love you.”
My stomach clenched.
“How much I fell in love with you the first time I saw you,” he added.