Total pages in book: 188
Estimated words: 179812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 899(@200wpm)___ 719(@250wpm)___ 599(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 179812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 899(@200wpm)___ 719(@250wpm)___ 599(@300wpm)
I take a deep breath to calm myself, but then flinch because I hear something. A crunch, and I look down to see his hand fisted around the empty bottle and that in his anger, he’s crushed it, the plastic, smashed it beyond recognition. And my chest hurts so badly because that’s my heart, isn’t it? It feels like it. Like he crushed my heart with his mean fingers, and not a plastic bottle. And well, I deserve it.
Swallowing, I look up and into his glittering pitch black eyes. “But despite all that, your family opened their arms for me and my sister. You opened your home for us. You… welcomed Snow into your home and I…” I blink back tears. “No one has ever done that for her, see. Ever. No one has ever showed her that she’s accepted and will be looked after. You painted her room. You bought her books and all her favorite foods. You… You made a home for her and she looks so happy.”
“I didn’t.”
“What?”
He watches me a beat, as if debating something, before finally saying, “She’s happy because you’re here.” Then, he explains, “I asked her before the surgery if she’d like to move in here, and she said she’d only do it if you came. So, it’s not me. It’s you. You made this a home for her. I just added the finishing touches.”
He's gone blurry because of the tears welling up in my eyes, but I can’t do anything about it. I can’t do anything about the way my heart both clenches and swells at his kind words. He may have spoken them in a reluctant tone but I appreciate him making the effort. Especially given the circumstances.
But before I can thank him, something else occurs to me. “Before the surgery.”
“What?”
“You said,” I lick my lips, “you asked her before the surgery.”
“So?”
“But I thought it was Conrad. He asked me after the surgery and…” My heart thuds in my chest. “It was you. It was all you.”
I should’ve known. I already knew he went to talk to Snow about her favorite things, so why wouldn’t it be his idea to move into this house—his house, by the way because he bought it off Conrad—in the first place? I mean, there’s even a new dishwasher in the kitchen. All of this has his name written all over it. He does things like that. Small things, big things. Things that make everyone’s life easy. Things like installing the security cameras and putting in an alarm system at the house to protect us from my mother. In fact, it was one of the points Conrad made that day, about us moving in.
So basically, everything was his idea and his family helped.
“Did you… Did you put Snow on your insurance?” Clenching his jaw is his only response and I get my answer, so I keep going, “So you did then. And the hospital change? That was your idea too, right?” Another clench and I get my confirmation. “Why did you get tested first though? Out of all of them. Callie said—”
“I don’t care what Callie said,” he cuts me off on a snap. “What the fuck is your point?”
Before I can stop myself, I blurt out, “You changed my life.”
He flinches. Visibly. Before everything on his body goes tight, his bare muscles standing taut, as if he hates I’m doing this. I’m being all emotional and feel-y. But I have to. I’ve been waiting for a long time to say this. Five weeks to be exact. Since the night everything got wrecked.
“You made it better,” I say, my voice hoarse. “Despite everything, you… You paid off my debt. You made me quit my job. You gave me choices. You didn’t have to. You had every reason to just… leave me there. Leave me where you found me, but you didn’t. You chose to help me. And that’s on top of everything else you made me realize and—”
“Made you realize what?”
“That I’m worth taking care of,” I tell him frankly. “I-I told you that. That n-night.”
His nostrils flare again, and his muscled chest moves with a long, audible breath. Then, “First, your mother is a piece of shit.” I wince but he keeps going, “I want you to know that. Your biological dad, he’s a piece of shit too. It’s not your fault your father left. That’s what you said, didn’t you?”
Yes, because after I’ve had time to think about it all, I’m starting to realize maybe it was my fault. If I hadn’t said anything, maybe dad would still be here. Jeremy would never have become a permanent fixture in our lives. Maybe my mother wouldn’t be so dysfunctional and hateful. I can’t remember how she was before Dad left but I think she didn’t hate me so much.