Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 128156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
I take a step closer, my insides coiling, clawing at me. “You’re her family, Mr. Randolph, the only blood she has left. I hope with everything in me that in time, she doesn’t hold any of this against you. I might even pray for it, for her sake, but I’m allowed to be angry. I am angry, so please.” The words scrape my insides. “Go. And don’t come back to this space until she tells you that you can. The studio is supposed to be pure, her safe, soft landing, and I think we both know we’ve disrespected it enough.”
His eyes slope at the edges as he watches me, his voice gruff when he says, “You’re a good man, Chase.”
“I will be one day, and I can only hope she still wants to be there to witness it.”
With a heavy sigh and one last look my way, he leaves, pulling the door closed behind him with a soft click.
And I fall to my fucking knees.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Chase
The sound of the drill cutting is the only thing filling the silence of the studio. I haven’t left since she walked out the door, focusing on putting in the last touches: finishing up the bathroom and assembling the shelves, installing the cabinets. Everything has to be perfect. It has to be.
I wipe the sweat from my brow and step back for a moment, surveying the room. The chair is finally built and placed in the corner beside the window. I can just picture her sitting there, smiling, as she watches over the kids as they run through a routine she taught them or play games in the corner with all the options stacked there. Or maybe she’ll read or simply just sit, enjoying the quiet at the end of a long day. She deserves that.
Everything’s finally coming together, and there’s little to nothing left to do but decorate and stock the shelves and cabinets with all the things she’ll need to run a rec center the way that she will. There are a lot of areas left empty because I want her to be able to add her own touch, the things I might not have thought of—and I’m betting there are a lot. She came in here with the vision, and I did the best I could, based on everything I knew she wanted and all the things she told me along the way.
But it’s still not enough, and I can’t stop until I’ve made things right.
“Chase?” my dad calls from the doorway. “I brought lunch. You’ve been at this for hours.”
I pause, my hand gripping the edge of the cabinet I’m installing, but I don’t turn around. “Thanks, Dad, but I’m good.”
I hear him shuffling, the paper bag rustling as he sets it down on the counter—the familiar sounds of him making himself comfortable while he waits for me to acknowledge him—but I don’t want to lose focus. When I lose focus, I get in my head, and when I get in my head, I fall apart. It happens every day, a couple times a day, and I don’t want to do that while he’s here. He has enough on his plate and he’s heading home tomorrow.
“Son. Come on now. Come sit.”
My eyes close, and I take a deep breath. I set the drill down and turn to him, joining him on the floor. “You know, maybe we do need another chair in here somewhere,” I say, trying a joke, and he smiles, but the one on my lips feels forced.
He taps me on the knee, and we sit there eating in silence, just like yesterday, like I’ve done for four days before that, since I followed Paige back here and watched her walk right back out.
I can barely taste it. Everything seems to have lost its flavor.
“Have you talked to the boys today?” he asks.
I nod.
“Lolli said she stopped by this morning, brought you some coffee.”
I nod again, picking at the crust on my sandwich.
“She should be having that baby any day now, hmm? I bet Nate is losing his mind.”
Another nod.
Eventually, my dad sits back and sighs. “You know, I’ve debated whether or not to share this with you, but all things considered, I think you should know…” He begins, and my eyes lift to his. “The game that I came to, the one with the scouts, your big game.”
“Dad, come on, please. I don’t want to talk about this.”
“I know, Son. I know you don’t, but sometimes you have to. You can’t just block everything out, but I’m not trying to talk to you about the game. You have my word. But what I tell you has to do with the fact that I was there in the first place. It was Paige’s grandfather who arranged it,” he says, and my head yanks his way.