Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 111229 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111229 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
I flicked my attention away from him. Now that I said my piece he did not exist.
“Jesus, Gwen, wait,” I heard him plead. I was totally ready to drop the motherfucker if he tried to stop me but Gwen put her hand on my arm.
“It’s okay, Amy.”
I managed not to flinch at the flat, dead tone of her voice and complied in letting her turn back to Cade. When this happened Brock advanced on me, yanking me away and pulling me flush to his body. “Sparky, wait a fucking second before you fly halfway across the world,” he hissed in my ear.
I gazed at him flatly, trying to disguise my yearning for him. I was disgusted with myself. All I wanted to do was jump into his arms, to grieve the loss of another man.
His hand went to my hips, and his face softened to a look so tender I had never seen it on his rough face. “Baby, let me sort some shit out. I’ll come with you. Be there for you,” he said softly.
I yanked out of his arms, his suggestion like a bucket of ice water. “Yeah, how do you think that will go down? Me bringing the guy I’ve been sleeping with to Gwen’s brother’s funeral. That’s poor fucking taste,” I hissed at him and his eyes hardened.
“I’m more than that and you know it,” he replied roughly.
“This isn’t the time to discuss semantics of our past relationship. I’ve got a flight to catch,” I snapped.
I turned my back on him, but not before I saw his face turn to stone. I swallowed my feelings and got Gwen into the car, using all of my willpower not to look back. Not to fucking turn around and beg Brock to come with me. I did it. Barely.
It was two weeks after that scene at the hospital. Two weeks of being at Gwen and Ian’s home in the beautiful countryside of New Zealand. We had to wait to get Ian’s body shipped back before we could have the funeral. These two weeks I had been in a weird state of limbo. Without a funeral, without a goodbye I could almost pretend none of this was real. That Ian was alive and well in some unknown location. I prayed for it. Prayed for Dave to get a call informing them the army had made some kind of mistake and Ian had just been misplaced on the battlefield. No call came. Only a coffin. Containing the man I once loved. The man I still loved. The man who had declared his intention to love me until the day I died. The man whose heart I had been planning on breaking.
“Need some company, sweetheart?” a voice asked me quietly.
I glanced up to see Dave staring at me with a soft expression on his face. “I’d love some,” I told him sincerely, needing a respite from the thoughts in my brain.
He sat and I marveled at the strength of this man. He had stayed strong among the countless amount of female tears around him. He had remained standing while his only son was lowered into the ground. He comforted his wife and daughter as they broke down when the dirt started covering the coffin. He even opened his arms to me when I finally let the tears fall. This man was my hero.
Right now though, sitting next to me in the dark corner of some pub where the wake was being held, his mask slipped a bit. The pain and despair in his eyes was harrowing to watch and his whole frame seemed to sag under the weight of his loss.
He unearthed a flask from his coat pocket and offered it to me. I took it with a grin, taking a long swig and handed it back to him.
He grinned through his grief. “A woman who can take a decent drink. I see why he liked you,” he said lightly.
I froze at Dave’s words.
His large hand settled over mine. “He talked about you. Called me up two years ago and told me he met the girl he wanted to marry.” His eyes twinkled as he seemed to recall the conversation. “Wasn’t till a few months ago he told me it was you,” he informed me.
“He told you about us?” I asked weakly.
Dave nodded, smiling slightly. “Yeah, sweetie. He told me a couple of years ago about this amazing girl, but how he wasn’t ready to leave the army, didn’t want that life for her. I told him if she was the one she would happily wait for him.” He shook his head. “Damn boy didn’t listen. He thought he was doing the right thing. I had to support his decision.”
He took another swig of the flask and offered it to me again. I was thankful; I needed the alcohol to anesthetize the agony that this conversation was causing.
“We never spoke of her again, this mystery girl. Then six months ago out of the blue he talks to me about it. Tells me it was you.” His eyes focused on me.
I swallowed.
“When I found out I told him to get his ass out of the army and to the USA so he could marry you before some other bastard snapped you up. Couldn’t believe he was going to let someone as special as you slip through his fingers.” His grip tightened on my hand.
“You were perfect for him. You’re strong, loyal, frigging beautiful, best Yank I’ve ever met,” he joked slightly. “Couldn’t have asked for a better friend for my girl and I couldn’t have asked for a better daughter-in-law,” he told me softly.
I choked up at this, at this man’s heartbreakingly kind and beautiful words. I felt guilty and disgusted with myself, unable to verbalize the fact that I’d had no intention of becoming his daughter-in law. That I instead had planned to break his son’s heart.
“Just want you to know, sweetheart, even before Ian told me I already considered you a daughter and I always will.”