Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 131821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
I swallow, unable to break away from the choke hold of his gaze.
If there is one thing that hasn’t changed, it’s his eyes. The honey-brown irises are as rich as ever, the perfect mix of dark and light, vivid yet grave. A flawless illustration of his character.
Mason Johnson is as fierce as he is tender. He’s yin and yang.
And after nearly nine weeks of sudden silence, he’s standing before me with an expression that threatens to break me down right here, right now.
He doesn’t say a word, but he doesn’t have to. The slight frown blanketing his features says enough—he’s worried, frustrated.
Angry.
It’s deeper than that, though. I can see it in his troubled gaze.
Did something happen? Did I do something wrong? Did you change your mind…
Those are just a few of the questions he’s asking without opening his mouth, none of which I want to answer right now. To be honest, I’m not so sure I could.
Did something change? I ask myself, swallowing the needles that seem to have appeared in my throat.
Still, angry or not, he’s as gentle as ever, shuffling closer, and I know before he so much as lifts his arms, he’s going to reach for Deaton.
I hesitate, if only for a split second, but it’s long enough for him to notice, and his lips press together more firmly than they already were. I look away as I pass him my little boy and all but run from the room. In the hall, I’m ready to go full sprint, but my feet don’t seem to get the message, instead lingering in the hall, out of sight but not earshot.
Mason’s voice reaches me instantly, and I know by the lulling in his tone, he’s swaying my son just as I was. “What’s wrong, little man, hmm?”
A sharp pain stings my chest, and I consider going in and taking him back, but not a second after he speaks, what I couldn’t seem to do is done—Deaton stops crying.
I drop my chin to my chest and speed-walk out of there, softly closing the back door behind me so no one in the front of the house is alerted to my escape. It’s bad enough I’m clearly going out of my way to avoid everyone who has just arrived, but I can’t pause. Pausing will lead to too many thoughts, none of which I’m prepared for right now. At all. In any fashion.
I walk quickly down the deck, across the twenty feet of sand, and back up the deck of the house right next door. Yes, my older brother, Parker, owns the home right next door to his best friend. When Lolli told him she had purchased the home beside this one, it felt like a blessing I didn’t deserve. It’s how he was able to offer me my own room—and his nephew a nursery once he was born—after I ran away from our mother’s place.
It’s times like this, though, I wonder if I should have taken my dad’s offer to move in with him, as out-of-left-field and awkward as the conversation was, considering we hardly know each other these days. But even as I think it, I know I made the right choice when I gave him the swift and instant answer of a hard no way in hell. My refusal had nothing to do with him on a personal level, though I’m not sure he believed me when I told him so, considering I didn’t go into much more details outside of that. If he knew me better, he would have never asked. He would understand living with him would mean going back to Alrick, where my mother lives, where the family that shares my son’s last name lives. The last thing I want is my Deaton anywhere near those vile people. They hated their son as much as much as my mother hates me.
Leaving that place was both the best and worst decision I have ever made.
On one hand, my son will never be exposed to the toxicity that is Ava Baylor. On the other, it is the very reason his daddy died.
I am the reason he’s dead.
Swallowing, I swiftly lock my bedroom door, dropping my head against it. I no sooner close my eyes than hurried footsteps sound on the hardwood floors in the hall. I hold my breath, the sound of his heavy exhales causing my hand to clench the knob I’ve yet to let go of.
I know who’s on the other side. Of course he followed.
“Where you are is where I want to be…”
I squeeze my lids closed tight.
There’s the smallest of raps, as if he lifted his knuckles to knock, to demand an answer or beg for a reason, but changed his mind at the last second. My eyes open, pointed at the floor where the shadow of his shoes sits just inches from my own, watching as it fades into nothing as he walks away a moment later.