Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 138981 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138981 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
She trails off, and that’s the moment I realize two things.
One, Delilah Clarendon doesn’t believe Emma’s death was an accident any more than I do.
Two, there’s no way in hell this woman could have done it.
Not when I can practically smell the salty tears she’s fighting back.
I won’t believe it.
I won’t believe this is just a spectacular lie.
Maybe I still believe a little too much that people, deep down, are fundamentally good—most of them, anyway.
That no one with even the slightest heart could fake this much emotion. It’s coming so heavy now it pulls me closer, almost magnetic, until I can feel her warmth as her arm brushes mine.
Every hair on my body bristles.
“How?” I ask. “How’d you find her? Your ma, I mean?”
“Oh, it was all right there.” She swallows a heavy breath. “In my file. Her name, last known address, phone number. All those years wondering who she was and where she went, and it was just sitting there, being kept from me because of some stupid fucking rules.” She closes her eyes, pressing her mouth to the mug, just breathing the steam. When she speaks again, she’s more composed. “She wasn’t at that address anymore, of course, but her old neighbors knew her. They talked about her like they loved her when I came knocking. Their info helped me track her down.” Her smile trembles so sweetly. “And she took one look at me and burst into tears. Hugged me harder than I’ve ever been hugged in my life. That was when I found out the truth. She never wanted to give me up... and she’d been working herself crazy all those years, hoping I’d find her so she could be there for me when I was ready.”
“Sounds like a great lady,” I say gently.
“The most amazing ever,” Delilah says fiercely. “She got back on her feet and opened her own diner after they took me away. Mom went from having nothing to owning her own restaurant, and she’d been saving every penny for years. All for me, Lucas. For me. She... she gave me my first job at that diner. The extra shifts helped me pay my way through school. All for a daughter she hadn’t seen for eighteen years. She’s the real reason I took this job, I think. All these big companies are coming into her neighborhood, buying things out, ‘upscaling,’ and I can’t stand for her to lose the diner. So I’m going to help her like she helped me and send every bit of money home I can manage. I’ll make sure she has a choice—the most comfortable retirement ever, or at least a lot of helpers to lighten the load if she never wants to give up the diner.”
Fucking hell.
I don’t think I have any hope left of not noticing Miss Delilah Clarendon every waking minute.
She’s so goddamned beautiful in this moment.
Full of so much heart that she’s nearly breaking mine, her eyes shining and fierce with love for her mother. The devotion spills through her delicate face.
I feel like I’ve taken a brick to the head and I’m seeing stars.
How the fuck does it happen?
How is it that a man only needs five damn minutes to go from she’s pretty cute and feisty to falling head over heels?
And I just landed on my face like that old porch step caught me and pitched me down on my ass.
Look the fuck away, man.
Right now.
I have to.
Or else she might look up at me and see something too naked in my eyes. Something I’m not even sure is real or just me getting caught up in her emotional storm, in this presence that can put a man under its spell so easily.
Her head starts turning toward me.
Heart thumping, I glance away, trying to be casual about it and failing miserably.
I stare up at the sky, all bright late summer blue, watching the distinctive shape of a grasshopper hawk circling the sun without really seeing it at all.
“Sounds to me,” I say, “like you let your heart decide. That can’t be a bad decision at all.”
“I hope not,” she breathes. “I really do.”
We’re quiet for a spell then.
I’m okay with that.
Gives me a minute to collect myself, and I feel like she could use it, too.
When my voice finds its way up my throat again without the slightest bit of permission, I don’t know what’s coming over me.
“I get what it’s like,” I say quietly. “Feeling a bond with family you haven’t seen in years. You feel connected to them, even when they’re long gone.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I grind out.
I can feel her waiting for me in the silence, but I can’t do it.
I can’t talk about this, even if it feels a little unfair when she just gave me so much of her, piling her feelings in my hands like glittering jewels.