Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 136296 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 681(@200wpm)___ 545(@250wpm)___ 454(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136296 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 681(@200wpm)___ 545(@250wpm)___ 454(@300wpm)
She nods slowly, and I have to wonder how much of this she’s really processing.
I tuck her hair behind her ear. “You okay, sweetheart?”
She leans into my touch, seeking comfort maybe. “This all feels so surreal. I don’t want to think about what could have happened, but it’s hard not to let your mind go there.”
“We need to get a proper security system set up at your place before you move in there for good,” I tell her.
“That’s a good idea.” She takes another sip of her tea. “Is it okay if I lie down? I’m exhausted in a way I can’t describe.”
“Of course.” I take her upstairs to my bedroom, help her into one of my T-shirts, and lie down beside her.
“Thank you,” she murmurs, snuggling into my side.
“For what?”
“For coming into my life. For teaching me that I’m stronger than I think. For saving me.”
“I didn’t save you. You saved yourself.”
“Because you taught me how.”
I kiss her softly and stroke her hair until she falls asleep.
When I’m sure she’s out, I head back downstairs to check on my dad. He’s a lot like me in that he’ll go into fix-the-problem mode right away, but it doesn’t mean the gravity of this isn’t going to hit him eventually.
I find him sitting in the living room, flipping one of the many paper cranes I’ve made over the past two days between his fingers. A glass of scotch sits on the table beside him. My dad isn’t a big drinker. Mostly he reserves scotch for holidays and parties. Sometimes he’ll kick back and have a beer with dinner, and of course there’s the dock days of summer, but the good scotch is usually reserved for special occasions.
“How is she doing?” he asks.
I take the chair across from him. “She’s asleep. She was exhausted.”
He nods and rubs his bottom lip. “That cabin, is it going to be Clover’s primary residence? Or is it her vacation spot?”
“Her lease runs out on her place in Chicago at the end of July, so her plan is to move into the cabin. But, uh, obviously there have been some issues since the ex keeps fighting her on the place.”
He pokes at his cheek with his tongue. “If it’s okay with you, I’m going to make a call in the morning and get a security system installed. It’s pretty isolated, and there’s a lot of tree coverage between her and her neighbors. I think there’s going to be some building happening there soon, but the added protection would be good. And maybe a dog wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.” He sets the crane on the coffee table. “I take it if she’s going to be living there, you’ll be spending a lot of time there too.”
“Yeah, probably. I don’t really want her to be on her own out there, not with her ex threatening to light the place on fire.” I scrub a hand over my face, trying to get the scene I witnessed out of my head.
“Why don’t the two of you stay here for a bit? Take the pool house so you have some privacy.”
“You think Mom’s going to be cool with that?” I don’t like the idea of Clover in that cabin all by herself any more than my dad does.
“Despite your mom’s feelings about who you’re dating, what she wants most is for her kids to be happy. I see the way you and Clover are together.” He looks up at me. “Give Mom a chance to see that too. She’ll come around.”
Forty
The Hand in the Dark
Clover
The police show up first thing the next morning. Maverick’s father brings me an assortment of his wife’s clothing to choose from. She’s much shorter and bustier than me, but I find a pair of leggings and a loose, flowy tank top and cardigan that fit fine. Based on the interactions I’ve had with Violet, it would be safe to say she would not be excited to see me wearing her clothes.
Maverick’s eyes are red-rimmed, and he looks as exhausted as I feel. I slept okay, but I woke up every time I tried to roll onto my right side, and I had to get up in the middle of the night to take a painkiller. At the time, I thought I’d woken him up, but I’m wondering now if he was awake already.
“Do you want privacy for this part?” Maverick asks when they start to ask questions about my relationship with Gabriel.
I shake my head, needing the emotional support more than anything else. “Can you stay?”
“Of course, sweetheart.” He presses his lips to my temple and frees another tissue from the box. But he doesn’t pass it over, instead he gently dabs under my eyes and wraps his arm around my shoulder.
I start at the beginning, when I met Gabriel at a conference, how it had been a whirlwind romance, that we’d only been dating a handful of months when he proposed, that the engagement was equally short, and that once I was his wife, the expectations had started to change.