Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 115619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
I have never seen somebody so alone. Weighed down. Gaslit to hell and back by people he was supposed to trust. “You are sure you know what you saw? You’re certain, a hundred percent, that there was more to it?”
“Yes, damn it.” He pleads with his eyes, with the pain chiseled across his forehead, in the corners of his eyes. “I know. I saw it.”
“Then I will. I'll help you.”
“No.” He shakes his head hard, his voice firm. “Absolutely not. It's too dangerous.”
“Stop.” I stand, and this time I round the desk to put my hands on his shoulders. Right now, he's as close to my real dad as he's been in weeks. It's so much easier to talk to him when he's like this—level-headed, calm. “I'm already part of this. They're all going to know that I know what you're thinking, just because I'm here right now. If you’re worried, I’m not afraid, Dad.”
“You should be.”
“I'm not. I will help you as much as I can, though there's one thing you have to understand. Callum didn't do it. I know,” I quickly add when he opens his mouth, “that's easy for me to say, and it's true. However, I know he wouldn't murder an innocent woman to save his own skin.”
He blows out a sigh. “He did seem stunned when I confronted him about it. Like he didn't have any idea what I was talking about” With a snort, he adds, “I might have been drunk, but I’ve questioned enough people over the years that I know how to read a face.”
Of course, he was drunk. “Then you believe him?”
He eyes me, his lips set in a thin, disapproving line. “Once he came clean about the two of you, I saw how serious he was about making sure I knew he cared. He said he would never hurt you, and I’m not dumb. He could have gotten rid of me pretty easily if he was guilty and didn't want you to know.”
“Wow. That's the most reasonable thing you've said… in a long time.”
“I had a lot of time to think about it.” He gives me a sheepish expression, “No matter how many times I went through it, I couldn't force myself to be all right with this. Then I reminded myself that it's your life, and I don't want you to be afraid to tell me things.”
He thinks that, but how would he feel if I told him I'm keeping a secret right now? I can't even think about it. Not now.
“From now on, we'll both try to be better about that. Okay? And you will not under any circumstances come back here ranting and raving and throwing punches. I'm serious, Dad. It’s too risky. I'll try to be careful, but you must also be careful. Okay?”
“Okay.” He eyes the door warily. “I’ll do my best, but it doesn’t change my stance. I know someone out there had a part in covering it up.”
“I know,” I whisper, bending down to press a kiss against his forehead. “And we're going to find out who that person was, but we’re going to be smart about it. You are not alone in this anymore.” He releases a strangled sob that leaves me fighting back sniffles, but the moment passes without either of us blubbering.
Ken comes in as soon as I knock on the door, and after he makes Dad promise to behave himself, he uses a pocket knife to cut the zip tie around his wrists. “Straight out the door,” he mutters, and Dad nods. I'm sure by now, all he wants is to go home and try to put this behind him. I know that’s what I want.
The car ride is quiet. Then within an hour, we're home, with Dad fed and showered. He’s calmer, almost peaceful. Like all it took was hearing me say I believe him, to soothe the ache in his chest. “Good night, Dad. Everything will look better in the morning. I promise.”
“I sure hope so.” He mumbles and makes his way to bed.
I couldn’t agree more. Now the only thing left to do is deal with my own problems. In a way, it's easier to focus on him than to turn around and handle my own shit.
What am I going to do? I’m a wreck. Between the baby, my dad, and everything else. The idea of staying here isn’t appealing. I want to be with Callum, but he isn't my favorite person right now, either.
He could have told me. He should have told me. I deserved to know. If I go to him, I'm sure he'll give me some bullshit about wanting to protect me or something along those lines. I'm so tired of everybody thinking they know what’s best for me.
What I need more than anything is to feel safe. I need that more than I ever have—one hand drifts down to my belly, where our baby is growing. We both need safety, security. I know this, and the idea of telling him still has me in knots. Maybe it's not fair of me to be mad at him for keeping things from me when I intend to keep this from him, at least for a little while. Until I can get a feel for how he’ll take it.