Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
I can hear him moving on his side of the phone. “Where are you?”
“My house,” I tell him, and then my legs give out on me, and I’m on my knees.
“I’ll be there in two.” He disconnects, and the phone drops from my hands as my head hangs, then spins. I swear I feel like I’m going to be sick. I barely make it to the bathroom, just in time for the whiskey to make its way back up. The front door opens and slams shut at the same time I’m at my sink rinsing out my mouth.
“Emmett!” he shouts my name, tearing through the house to get to me. “Emmett,” he calls one more time before he finds me.
“Jesus, what the fuck?” he swears. I look at him, seeing him wearing jeans and that’s it. No shoes, no shirt.
“I have to go to Barrowhaven,” I tell him, cupping my hands under the cold water and splashing my face. “I have to go now. But I can’t drive.”
“Okay,” he replies, “I can take you.” He agrees without a second thought even though he has no idea what the reason is. “Can I ask why?”
I turn the water off, take a deep inhale, and look at him. “I have to go and get my daughter.” Words I never envisioned myself saying. Words that sound unreal, even to my ears.
“I’m sorry, what?” he says, his tone as shocked as his face.
“Remember Paige?” I ask, and he shakes his head. “She worked at the diner.”
“Oh, yeah,” he replies. “Ginger girl.”
“Yeah, well, apparently, she had my kid,” I state, feeling like I’m going to throw up again, “and she died.”
“Jesus,” he swears, running his hands through his hair. “I have to go home and get shoes and shit. Meet me there. You need to shower.” I nod, and he runs out. It takes me a good five minutes to brush my teeth and shower, then grab a change of clothes in case I have to stay there.
I get in my truck, and when I pull up to Charlie’s house, the lights are on inside as well as outside. I get out of the truck at the same time Autumn and Charlie step outside. She has two travel mugs of coffee in her hands and a bag, probably with snacks and shit. “Ready?” I ask, and he nods before turning to kiss Autumn.
“Are you okay?” Autumn asks after she gives Charlie a kiss, and I shake my head. She hands Charlie the travel mugs and the bag. “It’s a big shock, for sure. But—”
I hold up my hand, not needing to hear Autumn and her supportive words right now. “I’ll see you when I get back.”
“We’ll hold down the fort for you,” she assures me, and I follow Charlie to the SUV. “Text me when you get there.”
He gets in, handing me a mug and then putting one in the cupholder. “You should drink that to stop the smell of booze that reeks from you.”
“I’m fine,” I say, but I’m not fine. Nothing about this is fine to me. Not one fucking thing.
“How can you be fine?” he asks as we make our way toward the highway, the night quiet with just the stars out. Silence fills the cab until he breaks it. “Listen, I’m going to say something that is probably going to piss you off”—I look over at him—“but are you sure this is your daughter?”
“I mean, it lines up. She was fine with us hooking up, but then her story suddenly changed. She wanted to settle down. I…” I leave out I practically ghosted her right before she left town.
“You hit the road and never looked back. Because you think you’re a lone wolf,” Charlie prods sarcastically.
“No, I know I don’t want kids,” I refute and then correct myself. “I didn’t want kids. I mean, I don’t want them, but what am I going to do, turn my back on her?”
“She never reached out before?” he asks, and I shake my head.
“She left town, and I never thought of her until now,” I admit, looking back out into the night. “She’s eight and in foster care.”
“We’ll get her,” he declares. “When it’s later, I’m going to call my pops,” he adds, and I nod, looking back out the window. My mind goes back to when I was eight myself.
“You go to sleep, my boy,” my father said, kissing my head. “Love you more than life.”
“Love you, Dad,” I said as I turned on my side and went to bed, not knowing that night would change the course of my life.
I woke up to the screaming. “You are worthless!” my mother shouted, and I looked at the door, seeing their shadows on the wall. “Completely worthless.”
“Keep your voice down. Emmett is sleeping,” he hissed at her, “and the last thing he needs is to hear you slurring your words.”