Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 96586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
She is why I’m gonna make that phone call.
To provide more for her like she never stops providing for me.
She’s worth any sacrifice I have to make, even if it means staring into the eyes of the man who cost me having to live without her for an entire fucking decade.
“Noah called to try to convince me to go see our father before he kicks the bucket,” I casually state while pulling onto the main road. “Apparently, new treatments aren’t working and the ones that are, he doesn’t wanna take anymore. He’s accepting death and ready to live out his final days.”
Her hand gives my leg a gentle squeeze.
“Doctors are saying he probably won’t make it another month and the old bastard is bullying my big brother to get me to come see him. And in turn, my big brother is bullying me to fulfill his dying wish.”
“Are you going to?”
Arriving at a stoplight allows for me to meet her stare on the answer. “TBD. I’m gonna talk to Law, see what he thinks, and go from there.”
She slowly nods her support, yet it’s impossible to ignore the sadness I see.
“What um…,” clearing my throat helps the conversation move along, “what do you think?”
The light that was starting to fade sparks again. “You really want my opinion?”
“Yeah.”
Her body slightly shifts my direction, although her hand remains securely on my thigh. “I think you should do whatever is best for you and your sobriety. And if that means making peace with him after he’s in the grave then so be it. However, if you can look him in the eyes, one last time, and let him see what a wonderful man you’ve become not because of him but in spite of him, that might be empowerment that could be beneficial for you. One more demon that can be laid to rest when they lay him to rest.” She provides my leg with an additional squeeze. “But whatever you or you and Law decide, you have my support. You always have my support, Ry.”
Lifting her hand to my lips to plant a kiss on the back of it is immediately done.
Shortly after, the light turns green and our morning car ride to the gym resumes its usual routine.
While we don’t have a locked down schedule when it comes to going to the gym, we do typically go together on Sundays since it’s the one day off we both share.
Not every Sunday like it’s a church service.
But most.
And afterward, sometimes there’s normally a trip to the grocery store or the high-end shopping center to grab something for work to wear– she bought us both new shoes last week – or even lunch at a new restaurant, which is how we discovered we’re both really into Korean BBQ.
Our arrival at the gym prompts Pres to lock her purse in the trunk of my car prior to bouncing back over to me to hold hands on our way in.
I love Gym Life.
Best. Fucking. Gym. Ever.
Between the amenities, the equipment, the classes, the café, and the fact all of that shit is open twenty-four hours a day – yeah, they even have middle of the night classes at two a.m. – there is no better place for working out.
Being put on her account allows me to swing by on my way to or from work or support group without hassle.
It’s been a big fucking tool.
And let’s be honest.
So has she.
“Wanna do a class together?” Pres unexpectedly asks as we stop at the calendar presenting them.
My mouth doesn’t have time to move let alone for sound to come out.
“Probably not, huh? We should just um…,” she gives her high pony tail an unnecessary adjustment, “stick to what we normally do. And know. And are comfortable with. And-”
I lift a free hand to stop the spiral I’m unfortunately familiar with.
She randomly does this shit when it comes to doing something different than we ordinarily do.
It feels almost like some fucking Stepford Wives pre-programmed malfunction.
Pretty sure it has something to do with my asshole predecessor.
But I don’t ask.
I don’t like to talk about him unless it’s absolutely fucking necessary.
“You wanna do a class, baby, we can do a class.” The statement is followed a warm grin. “You know I’m always good with us mixing shit up.”
She bashfully beams. “Yeah…And I love that about you.”
“And I love that you love that,” I warmly grin and gesture my head back to the now boarding flight style of a display screen. “Pick something. I’m game for anything.”
“Anything?” Pres teasingly pokes back. “Even like…hot yoga?”
“You really asking me do I mind getting sweaty with you in pretzel positions?” Our eyes briefly meet. “I’m mildly fucking offended, baby.”
She snickers, elbows me in the side, and resumes staring at the choices. It only takes another thirty seconds of silence before she squeals, “Ooo! Let’s do a Tabata class!”