Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 111096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 555(@200wpm)___ 444(@250wpm)___ 370(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 555(@200wpm)___ 444(@250wpm)___ 370(@300wpm)
There was no reason for her to be here.
She wouldn’t come for a visit. Not to see me. Not to see the business I’d created. The life I’d created.
There was only reason she’d be here.
Death.
And still, her clothes were pressed, her hair coiffed into a chignon, her makeup expertly applied. As it always was. Even when there was no money to pay our water bill, there was money for my mother to get her weekly blowout. Her priorities were always crystal clear.
There was a very slight redness to her eyes, but that could’ve been a trick of the light. Otherwise, she looked like an attractive, upper middle class, sixty-year-old woman who thought she was better than everyone.
Her daughter included.
Her daughter especially.
Normally, that haughty look of veiled disdain, the upturned chin, the pinch of disappointment and judgment between her brows did something to me.
Though I couldn’t say ‘normally,’ since I hadn’t seen the woman in years.
“What did you do?” I hissed, my voice unrecognizable. I realized my hands were clenched, but otherwise, I couldn’t feel my limbs.
My mother’s lips pursed in what I assumed was irritation and impatience. “Nora—”
“What did you do?” I screamed at her.
My mother glanced around. “Nora, we should not have this conversation here.”
“Here is the only place we’re having this conversation,” I snarled. I didn’t move. Couldn’t move. Because I didn’t think my legs would hold me.
There was warmth at my side, a strong presence. My mother’s eyes went to him.
Rowan.
He came because he saw my distress. Because that’s what he did. He showed up to protect me. Shield me.
But Rowan didn’t matter to me. Not now. Not at that moment.
“He’s dead, isn’t he?” I asked my mother, my tone cold and lifeless.
My mother proved that she had some humanity left inside her by flinching at my words.
She didn’t answer me. She wasn’t even brave enough to meet my eyes, merely nodded weakly.
“You killed him.”
My mother didn’t flinch this time, her chin tilted upward as she regained her armor of disinterest. My mother was a lot of things, but she wasn’t someone who would take the blame for anything. Especially the things she was guilty of.
“A drug overdose killed him, Nora,” she snipped without an inch of grief. “He was a drug addict.”
“And what turned him into a drug addict?” I sneered. “Who turned him into a drug addict? Who chose her own interests, her manicures, her makeup, her quest for a rich husband, over her son’s warmth, over clothes that fit, his childhood?” My fury rose up inside of me, a hot, scalding thing. “You did that.” I jabbed my finger at her. “You gave him nothing. Not love. Not a home. Nothing for him to grab on to.”
Angry tears were streaming down my face. I was surprised my skin didn’t sizzle. Something was tearing inside of me. Something large, something special and irreplaceable inside of me. It was splintering my insides. The pain was unbearable.
“I paid for his rehab,” she snapped. “Every single time. I paid for therapists. Gave him a place to live. What did you do, Nora?”
She looked around the bakery. “You ran away. To sell cupcakes.” Her words dripped with disdain, the tone shrinking me down like it always did. To make me feel small. Worthless. “You abandoned your brother.”
I backpedaled, the words hitting true. I might’ve actually collapsed on the floor had I not hit something solid. His arms wrapped around my waist, firm, strong. But they didn’t do anything this time, merely held me up.
Rowan passed me, delicately, into the arms of my best friend who I hadn’t realized had also come to stand by my side. Though she was much smaller, she was strong enough to tuck me under her arm, hold me up.
I stared at Rowan’s back as he stepped forward and got right in my mom’s face. Even without seeing his face, I knew he was pissed. From the way he held his shoulders. The way he used his size to intimidate the woman. The Rowan I knew would never do that.
My mother, though a lot of things, was not one to be intimidated easily. Or at all. She was the one who was practiced at doing such things. But she shrank back under what I imagined was the force of Rowan’s murderous glare.
“You’re done.”
He said the two words quietly, almost a murmur. But they seemed to boom through the room, bouncing off the walls.
“You get out of here,” he ordered, still in that hauntingly soft tone that echoed. “You do not contact Nora. Do not talk to her unless she decides she wants to talk to you. And if I ever hear that vile, that toxic, unforgivable shit comin’ out of your mouth again, I’ll ruin your fucking life.”
In any other circumstance, that tone, that eerie promise would’ve terrified the crap out of me. Except I had nothing to be afraid of. Not now that my worst fears had been realized.