Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
The next morning, I sat at the kitchen table and drank my coffee while I went through emails and notes on my phone. The newspaper sat beside me, but unfortunately, I didn’t usually have time to read it.
My father’s name popped up on the screen as the phone rang.
Well, there went my morning.
“Morning.”
My father never issued a greeting. Even hello was too much for him. “Is he going to die soon?”
What a lovely question first thing in the morning. “Odd question.”
“My sources tell me he doesn’t have much time. He hasn’t paid his debts and delivered what he promised. The guys are going to move in any day. For his sake, I hope he’s dead soon. I’d rather die on a morphine drip than with a blade in my stomach.”
I didn’t share most of my father’s opinions, but I agreed with him on that front.
“If he’s got some time left, I suggest you slip him something so he can go with some dignity.” He hung up.
I lowered the phone from my ear and considered what my father had just advised. Arwen wouldn’t want me to kill him prematurely, but she didn’t understand how terrible it would be if he didn’t die naturally. Those men would make the last few hours of his life unbearable. If we did it soon, we could bury him next to his wife, and the men would move on.
Arwen entered the room, led by Abigail.
“Would you like some breakfast, Mrs. DeVille?” Abigail grabbed the pot of coffee and poured it into the empty mug on the table.
Mrs. DeVille. Fuck, I had a wife.
“Yes, thank you,” Arwen answered. “But please call me Arwen…”
Good.
Abigail finished pouring the coffee then headed to the kitchen. “Breakfast will be ready in just a moment.”
Arwen eyed me but didn’t sit down.
I stared at her with my phone in my hand, knowing we were both thinking about the same thing. I would have taken her to bed last night if she’d wanted me to.
“Can I join you, or will you scream at me?”
Alright, I deserved that. “Yes, you may stay.”
She pulled out the chair and sat down. She cupped the mug with both hands and brought it to her lips, taking a deep drink like she needed the caffeine to fully wake up. New makeup was on her face, and her hair was still wavy from the night before. It was the first time we’d sat together to share a meal, and it was the first time I’d noticed just how beautiful her complexion was, how her fair skin complemented those blue eyes so perfectly. She took another sip then lowered the cup to the saucer.
I was grateful she hadn’t walked in until after my father hung up on me. The conversation would have brought her to tears. I set my phone on the table and looked at her, noting the slight bags under her eyes because she clearly didn’t sleep well in her new home. But the exhaustion didn’t take away her beauty. Nothing could compete with those vibrant eyes.
“When my father wakes up, I’m going to admit him to the hospital…” It seemed like she was testing the waters, to see if I was still going to support his treatment—and his death.
“Do you need any help?”
“No, I don’t think so. I’ll be at the hospital with him until…it happens.” Right on cue, her bottom lip started to tremble, and her eyes glossed over with moisture.
I didn’t deal well with emotion—probably because I didn’t have any. But I didn’t want to be a dick and tell her to leave and shed her tears somewhere else. “When my mother was taken, I wanted to get her back. I hoped she would be returned to us and we could be a family again. But at the same time…I hoped she was dead. I didn’t need to know the details to understand how much she was suffering. Death would finally give her freedom. So when I heard that she had died…I was relieved. No one could hurt her anymore.”
She blinked her tears away and lifted her gaze to look at me.
“Just think of it that way. All the suffering will be over…and he’ll be free.”
12
Arwen
My father was more comfortable at the hospital. With Maverick’s money, he got a large private room with a nice view and a big-screen TV. It was quiet, so he got to relax and take a lot of naps. Now that we were at the end of this horrible journey, his strength was slipping away and he was exhausted no matter how much he slept.
But at least he was comfortable.
Days passed, and he wouldn’t last much longer.
When my father was asleep, Dante stopped by for a visit. I moved into his chest and held on to him as I cried quietly, being careful not to wake my father.