Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 142764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
His gaze turns hungry as he stares after me as I grab my phone from the floor and head out the door. Seb waits in the hall and gives me one quick assessing glance before turning to the stairs.
All or nothing.
17
DREW
The nightmare called my life makes it hard to see past the despair to the light at the end of the tunnel. Is there any good in my life? There’s Bel, the saving grace in my life. The light. I have to do this for her. For my mother. I have to find something to stand for because if I don’t, then I’ll never be able to finish this. I’ll never be able to defeat my father and the demons haunting me.
The invitation I crumpled up and tossed at Sebastian the other day sits heavy in the pocket of my jeans as I walk up the estate stairs and through the front door. The house bustles with life, further proof of my father’s return to the house. Glad he finally decided to grace us with his presence, considering Mom almost fucking died.
I clench my fists in my pockets and march through the foyer and straight to my mother’s wing of the house. The medical suite doors that lead into her room are open, and I step inside. It’s busier than usual, with nurses rushing all around the room. I survey the small crowd of staff for the doctor I spoke to last time, but he's not there. In fact there’s no one I recognize in the room.
Except him.
Nope. I turn and walk right out the door again and out into the hallway. If I don't take a second to get my shit together, I'm going to walk right in there and punch him in his stupid smug-ass face. Hell, maybe I should anyway.
At this point, I'm running out of reasons not to. Mom is dying, and there's only so much pain he can inflict on me before it becomes the same ole, same ole each time. Between his tender care and football, I know how to take a punch and get back up without a flinch.
The only reason he’s not dead yet is because I don’t want to risk my mother being hurt or her care being removed. But a person can only be threatened for so long before they have to take the risk. There is no risk without reward. This probably isn't going to settle me for talking to him. Regardless, I'm here, and it needs to be done. I don't want Bel at the meeting. Not surrounded by thieves, crooks, and criminals. People like me.
When I feel like I won't gut him over my mother's sickbed, I reenter the room.
This time, I pinpoint him immediately. His forehead is scrunched as he reads over a stack of documents. I tug the invitation from my pocket, smooth it the best I can, and walk over to the bed. One look at my mother’s sleeping form, and I’m riddled with guilt. Is she still in a coma? She doesn't stir when I brush my hand against her arm. Fuck. I've been so stuck in my own shit I haven't checked on her like I should have.
I step toward the bed, surveying the neatly tucked sheets, the hospital corner edges, if only to give myself a second to breathe and reel back in the anger threatening to pull me under. "Why is she here?"
My father looks up, and while there is still an undercurrent of anger threatening to consume me and pull me into its dark web, there’s also this tremendous empty hole of loss.
The real reason I hadn’t checked on her or returned to the house has more to do with the information I discovered and less to do with my so-called father. I’ve been trying to wrap my head around the knowledge that if these two aren't my parents, then who are? And why did they lie to me all this time? I glance down at my mother, and somehow, her betrayal hurts so much more than his. I expect him to lie to me, to hurt me, but not her. Never her.
His eyebrow arches, and he smirks. "Finally decide to visit her, I see. She'd be touched by your care." There’s so much mockery in his tone I want to punch him.
How dare he, after being gone all this time, doing nothing to help her? I grip the handles of the bed and let my icy glare wash over him.
"Are you kidding me? If it wasn’t for me, she would be dead. I was the one who took her to the hospital when her condition worsened and you were off doing god knows what. Why is she back? Her fucking organs were failing."
He stares me in the eyes, his gaze penetrating like he’s trying to suck my soul out. Something squeezes tight in my chest. Is he trying to gauge what I know? Based on that assumption alone and the instinct in my gut, I keep my face as neutral as I can and give him nothing in return.