Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 89878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
“I have nothing to hide.”
He studies me, his eyes full of suspicion. “What is your relationship to Georgia Price?”
Right to the fucking point. “She’s currently staying with me for the summer, working as an intern at my company.”
“And your personal relationship with her?”
“My personal relationship with her is irrelevant to this matter.”
“It becomes relevant when you’re being accused of sexual misconduct with a minor—”
“Miss Price is nineteen.”
“The timeline of these accusations traces back to when she was underage.”
“Mr. Collins, as I said, I have nothing to hide. Ask questions pertinent to your investigation. The ones you’re focusing on are irrelevant to the issue at hand.”
“And that is?”
“The Hallsteads. Reach out to my lawyer, Craig Stone. He’ll provide any information you need that pertains to me. As for Georgia, she’s the victim in all this. I won’t allow the narrative to be painted any other way.”
“And your son?”
His question hits a nerve. “He has nothing to do with this.”
“Georgia’s dating your son, isn’t she? Vince Hallstead was his best friend. Your son was one of the last people to see him alive. From what we can tell, there was some kind of altercation. Would you care to explain the marks on your face? On your son’s?”
“Call Craig Stone. He’ll provide the answers you need. Anything else involving my son or Georgia, will go through my lawyer.” I turn to leave, but he calls after me.
“What do you know about a ledger that was stolen? Mrs. Hallstead claims your girlfri—Miss Price had access to it.”
“I don’t know, nor do I care. My concern right now is Georgia. If you’ll excuse me…” I pivot sharply and leave, shutting out the conversation—because nothing else matters until I know she’s okay.
***
The doctor just left, and the room is silent except for the beeping of machines. There’s been no change. He says he’s hopeful, but the doubt in his eyes tells a different story.
“My mom’s on her way now.” Lettie breaks the silence.
“Good.” I glance at Noah. “I had Sarah bring a fresh change of clothes and some toiletries. Maybe clean up a bit. We’ve both been in the same clothes since yesterday, and with the bloodstains, I can’t imagine what her mother will think when she sees us.”
“I don’t want to leave her.”
“You can’t look like that when her mother gets here. Do it. Now.”
He stands abruptly, pushing the chair back, and yanks the bag out of my hands. “Like it matters. A clean shirt isn’t gonna change anything,” he mumbles, exiting the room.
I release a long, tired sigh.
“Maybe you should take a moment, too,” Lettie says. “Out of the two of you, you’re looking a little more worse for wear,” she adds. “Just sayin’.”
I have no idea what I look like. I’ve avoided the mirror. It only serves as a reminder of what I’ve done. Flashes of Noah’s hurt, the blind rage in his eyes with each swing he took. If I’d allowed him to continue his beating, how far would he have gone?
“Yeah. Thanks. I’ll be back. If anything—”
“I’ll call immediately.”
“Thanks.” I nod and walk out, heading to the visitor bathroom. Once inside, I rest my hand against the sink, my shoulders slumped. I glance at my reflection and become overwhelmed with shame and disgust. I’ve made such a mess of everything. Destroyed the last remaining part of our relationship. There’s no coming back from this. The truth weighs heavy in my heart. Georgia is lying in that bed, fighting for her life over a twenty-year-long vendetta. I missed all the signs. I should’ve never allowed Vince into our lives.
If only I could rewind time. Tell Georgia to do what was right in the first place and hand over the damn ledger. Let go of the anger I’ve clung to all these years. None of it matters now. Not compared to the regret I’ll face if I lose her.
I swallow the lump in my throat and force myself to clean up. When I return, Lettie is standing with the doctor and an older woman I presume is her mother. They look over at me, and I almost have to look away at the raw pain etched in her mother’s eyes.
“Mom, this is Mr. Blake, Noah’s dad,” Lettie introduces. I step forward and take her hand, noticing how small and fragile it is in mine.
“Maribel Price. I don’t know how to thank you for helping me see my daughter. I’ll find a way to repay you every cent. I can’t imagine—”
“You don’t have to thank me. I’m glad you’re able to be with her. Are there any updates?”
“Nothing good, but nothing bad either,” Lettie answers. “Her oxygen levels appear to be good, which suggests there’s a chance she’s starting to breathe on her own. The next twenty-four hours will determine when they bring her out of the coma. He’s hopeful for the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours.”