Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 131651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 658(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 658(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
But his face darkens in the shadows. His jaw tenses, just for a split second, and he glances away.
The chasm in my stomach widens. That heavy dread deepens, like everything is slowly sinking into a bottomless hole and I’m powerless to stop it.
“What?” I ask. “What did I say?”
“Nothing at all,” he says blankly.
“Yeah, right. You’re upset.”
“It is nothing, Clee. No lie.” There’s an edge in his voice that feels cold. “It’s your choice. Your life. Your career. I don’t get a say.”
He won’t lay it out there. I sigh.
“Okay, fine. While we’re talking, what will you do with the money you get from all this? You must have a plan. You don’t wing anything.”
“Me? Nothing I haven’t told you before.” He blows out a breath, but he doesn’t relax. “Kit and my parents come first. Pay their bills, save some cash for the care they’ll need when they’re older. Then Kit’s college fund.”
I knew most of that already, but I nod, playing along.
This is good. Talking about the future, new dreams, the things we have in common.
We both want to save our small, imperfect families.
“But what about you-you?” I whisper, caressing his cheek.
He smiles.
“Don’t give a damn what happens to me as long as my little girl has her best shot in life,” he says, more animated now, the way he always gets with Kit on his mind.
“With you as her father, she will,” I whisper. “But there must be something. Come on, be selfish for a second.”
Another long pause.
I wonder how much thought he’s ever given to what he wants.
“I’ll probably take a step back from the private security game. I’d like to get into consulting,” he says.
“Consulting. Cool.”
“Surprised?”
“I thought you’d… I don’t know.” I laugh. I’m not even sure how much money he’s getting from this, but Gramps was generous. “I wasn’t sure you’d ever give up the bodyguard stuff. Unless you just retire.”
“Fuck that,” he says sharply. “I’m pushing forty, not seventy. Far too early to jerk off on pretty beaches or take my checks to Vegas casinos to die.”
I giggle. “Oh, come on. There are a million more things you can do in retirement than crank the hog.”
He snorts and shakes his head.
“If I get there, I’ll figure it out,” he says gruffly.
“You don’t think you can? Even after this?”
He hesitates.
“Depends. This old house keeps me paying out the ass for repairs sometimes. And moving out of Maine… No, I can’t imagine it. Certainly not before Kit’s grown and off to college.” He waves a hand. “Then I’ve got to think about whether I’ll hang around if she leaves Portland. Wouldn’t mind more time somewhere warmer, but I’m a Maine boy at heart, born and raised.”
I smile. It’s weird thinking about Kit grown up and thrown into the same scene I was in just a couple years ago. Where will she be in eight years?
Who will she be?
Then I wonder where I’ll be, too.
I’ll be in my thirties. It seems so far away, like I’ll magically transform into a real grown-up then, instead of some girl who’s just pretending to have her shit together.
Some girl who won’t have unprofessional relationships with older men who can’t possibly keep my heart intact.
“Is that what you want? A change of pace?” I ask softly, moving to safer ground. I take his hand and his fingers curl around mine. “To strike out on your own with the consulting work?”
“It’s an option.” His voice is firm, guarded.
I remember the way he limped inside after chasing after those men, his knee torn up. The fury in his voice at failing to catch them.
I put my hand on his thigh. “You’re worried about your knees.”
“No need to remind me,” he growls.
“But it’s true, right?”
“True enough,” he admits. “Shit gets worse every year. Hereditary problems.”
There’s pain in those words, knowing he’s stuck with a destiny he can’t control. The worst fate for a man who’s used to being in control.
I pause, waiting for him to give me his full truth.
That’s not the end of it, I know.
“I’ve talked about this before. No point in dwelling on it,” he grumbles.
“And we can talk about it again. Sorry, I just like to know what you’re thinking.”
He huffs. “Fine. I can’t do my old job much longer. I’m keeping up today, barely, but in a few more years? Fuck, I can’t protect the people I care about, Clee. If I can’t keep clients safe, I can’t keep earning money that way. And if I can’t, if I ever have the slightest doubt, I won’t put them in danger.”
I watch the dark flicker in his face.
“Hey, I know that. Don’t stress. You can’t beat yourself up. You’re still strong and spry. Whatever happens isn’t your fault,” I whisper.
“That’s why I have to look after them without relying on just my body. I have experience, yeah, so I can figure it out. With the payout from your granddad, I can build my own business. I can keep going and provide.”