Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 87275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
“You’re betraying me just like your father.”
Georgia said she was selfish, but holy shit.
If this is the only family Georgia has, then I understand why she’s reluctant to terminate their relationship no matter how terrible it might be. But this isn’t healthy. This isn’t good.
Who does Georgia go to when she’s sick? Hurt? When she needs support?
Who takes care of her? Protects her? Is her shield from the world?
It doesn’t look like she has one. It appears she’s out there, fending for herself, and I can’t handle that.
“Dammit,” I groan into the air, pounding my fist against the countertop. “I can’t take this shit. What should I do? Do I call her? Go over there? Text her? What?”
“Why don’t you give her some space tonight?” Sutton suggests. “She’s trying to do what’s right for everyone involved. Let’s give her a bit of time to get her head together.”
“I don’t like that plan.”
Jeremiah chuckles. “I bet you don’t, man, but Sutton’s going over there in a little bit.”
“And I’ll tell her I talked to you,” she says.
“And if you need anything—if she needs me—you’ll call me, right?” I ask.
“You’re my first call,” Sutton says. “This is going to be all right. I promise.”
I look down at Waffles, his little chin resting on my foot, and smile weakly.
Just last night Georgia and I were outside, taking Waffles for a walk. Throwing him the ball. Ordering him jackets online for the upcoming fall—something that was a little extra for even me—but Georgia insisted.
And now, we’re here.
It was so much easier when she hated me for something I’d done instead of possibly seeing me in the same way they do.
“Keep me updated,” I say.
“Call me if you need me,” Jeremiah says. “I’ll be home all night. Keep away from the tequila tonight, just in case. ”
I push the bottle away from me. “Okay. Talk to you later.”
“Bye,” they say and hang up.
I hold my head in my hands and replay every conversation I’ve ever had with Georgia—until one conversation sticks out.
“Donovan started talking about me moving in with him, and I fought against it. It was too soon and, I don’t know, I didn’t really feel like we were at that point. That made him mad. Shortly after, he stopped buying cookies.”
I swipe my phone up and find her name in my text list.
My heart pounding, I type out a simple text that I hope she understands.
Me:
A few seconds later, her reply comes through.
Georgia:
It’s not enough, but at least it’s something until I can talk to her. She knows I’m not going anywhere.
Because I will talk to her.
I’ve waited my entire adult life for her. I can wait a bit longer.
The sound of my phone shakes me out of my sleep. I grasp wildly at my bedside table until I find it as I sit up.
Georgia: Hey, just checking on you.
Me: It’s so good to hear from you. How are you?
I stare at the screen until it goes black. My heart turns a dark shade with it.
Georgia: I’m actually terrible. I am so sorry for what happened today. I’ve tried to call you and text you a hundred times, but I just don’t know what to say.
“Thank God.”
Me: You don’t have to say anything. You don’t have to apologize or explain. I just want to know that you’re okay.
Georgia: Mom said some really awful things to both of us today, and I’m so sorry you had to hear them. I can brush them off because I know she’ll come around. But you didn’t deserve any of that.
Me: And you think you did?
“You’ve got to be kidding me, Peaches.”
I stare at the screen, waiting for her reply—one that takes far too long.
Georgia: I have to figure this out. It’s time I place some boundaries with her and demand more respect. But I fear that’s going to be a process at best, impossible at worst. But, until I know, I can’t have you being subjected to her word vomit.
Me: I’m a big boy.
Georgia: Don’t I know it? I just need some time, okay? You’ve protected me for so long, and I need to protect you, too.
Me: I don’t need protecting. I need to be there for you.
Georgia: If you get involved, it’ll make it messier. And I can’t focus on my new job—which I start tomorrow now, by the way—you, and Mom. Even though it’s not what I want when we’ve just found each other, I just need a bit of space. Please.
Me: You can have all the space you want, as long as you know this is where you’re going to end up.
Georgia: Soon.
Me:
Georgia:
It takes a long time to fall back asleep. But, when I do, I sleep a bit more peacefully.
Chapter Thirty-One
Georgia
I collapse onto the sofa with barely enough energy to even hold the phone up to record my confessional. I’m not sure why I’m recording it in the first place. Maybe it’s a habit.