Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 93453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
“We found her.” He comes in and stands in front of me. The relief that they found her is so overwhelming I feel like my chest is going to explode.
“Oh my God,” I say, smiling. “Where is she?” I’m ready to go to her.
“Charlie,” he says again, and his tone is flat. “I’m so sorry.” It’s then I know my life will never be the same. It’s then I know the pain I feel will stay with me forever. It’s then I know all of my dreams are being shattered. He says two words, and then the blackness gets me. “She’s gone.”
Chapter Four
Autumn
Eight years later.
I look at the computer screen in front of me, adding the numbers on the paper while grabbing my cup of steaming hot coffee beside the computer. When my phone rings next to the papers, I look down and see it’s my brother, Brady. A smile fills my face as I answer, “Good afternoon to you.” I look at the top of the computer screen to see it’s just a little past one in the afternoon.
“Hey,” Brady sighs. His tone is low, and I instantly know something is wrong. “What’s up?”
“What’s up with you?” I quickly answer him. “You sound like someone stole the lunch money you were saving up to buy naked magazines.” He chuckles at that, making me relax just a touch.
“I wish this was that kind of problem,” he says, and I gingerly put the coffee cup down.
“You’re scaring me,” I say softly, leaning back in the wooden desk chair that is as old as me, if not older. “What’s going on?”
“I’m at the hospital,” he replies, and my stomach immediately surges to my throat, “and it’s not good.”
The back of my neck tingles. “What do you mean?”
“It’s Dad,” he says, and every single cell in my body feels like it’s being drained, only to be refilled with ice-cold water.
“What happened?” I try not to get ahead of myself, but the tears come anyway.
“He didn’t want me to tell you.” Just that sentence alone should make me stop in my tracks. My father has been my rock for my whole life, or at least for as long as I could form memories. My mother passed away when I was a baby. She got sick one day and then found out she was terminal at the ripe age of twenty-nine. I have pictures of her holding me, forever frozen at that stage. He never moved on, never remarried. His life was my brother and me and, of course, the distillery my great-grandfather created. “We just met with the oncologist.”
“What?” I snap, and my hand hits the desk in front of me. “Oncologist,” I whisper as my head is spinning. It’s a good thing I’m sitting down because I would have fallen to the ground, but this time, I didn’t have my father to help me stand.
“It’s stage four, and they don’t give him much longer.” Brady’s voice cracks as the tears stream down my face. “You need to come home.”
“Of course,” I agree without a second thought. Forget the fact I haven’t been home in the past six years. Forget the fact I said I would never step foot in that town again. Forget the fact my life ended the day my best friend and boyfriend died because of me.
“He’s going to be pissed I told you,” Brady shares, and I can hear the anguish in his voice mixed with the sadness.
“Well, too bad,” I reply, trying to be strong for him. When I took off six years ago, everything dropped on Brady and my father. We were scheduled to help take over the whiskey production as well as the bar, but now it’s all Brady’s. “I’ll get there as soon as I can.”
“Sounds good.” I can hear the tiredness in his voice, and the guilt of not helping him just adds to the guilt that lingers in my soul. “Call me with the details.”
“Will do.” I look up when I see Mildred walking into the room with a smile on her face that fades as soon as she takes one look at me. “I love you.” It’s something I’ve done in the last eight years, after that fateful night. I never, ever get off the phone without telling him I love him.
“Love you too,” he replies and disconnects as my hand slowly lowers from my ear to place the phone on the desk. My eyes are on the phone in a trance.
“Hey.” Mildred comes to the side of my chair and squats down beside it. Her white hair is perfectly styled and pulled back at the nape of her neck in a ponytail, which is probably tied with a ribbon. It’s the same style she’s had for the past forty years. Her warm hazel eyes watch me. “What happened?”