Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 103141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Conan. So that’s what his name is.
“But you’re not?” I ask. He told me he wasn’t not very long ago.
“Not particularly. We’re not talking about me, though.”
Still, he’s on my mind. Why does Rian think the cold man who left earlier is good, but he isn’t?
“How long have you known him?” I find myself asking, as Rian pours the eggs into the skillet, then drops bread into the toaster before using his good hand to cook.
“Most of my life. I get that you see the world in black and white, Abbott, but that’s not the world I live in. Yes, he would do things that are unforgivable to you, but he’s the kind of man who has loved the same woman for as long as I’ve known him, even though she doesn’t feel the same. And any time she needs him, he is always there. He treats her children like his own, despite the fact that had my brother known when he was alive, he would have been killed for it.”
“Your brother? Jesus. He would have been angry at him for helping his own kids?”
“Yes,” I reply simply. “It’s how we were raised.”
How they were raised. Is Rian the same? “What about you? Is that how you raised your son? Or kids, if you have more than one?” He mentioned a son when I called him a homophobe on the first day.
“Just my son.” I’m surprised he’s answered honestly, and I find that I want to know more. Something about him has me curious, like I want to gobble up any bits of information about him that I can. It will be good to share with the police—when or if I get out of here. That’s what I tell myself, but really, I just want a fuller picture of this man who has turned my world upside down and plans to end my life. “I raised him the way I needed to. And his mother…well, she was incredible. We were lucky to have her.”
He’s still got his back to me while he stands at the stove, stirring the eggs. I see his spine stiffen, though, feel the air in the room thicken with what tastes like pain.
The was in his sentence echoes between us.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I say, but Rian doesn’t answer. “I know how it feels to lose a mom, and I’m sorry your son had to go through that. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.”
“So, you wouldn’t wish it on me?” he asks, turning around.
This time, I’m the one who doesn’t respond. I’m not sure what I would even say. I hate him. I wish I had never met him. But I don’t want him to hurt. I don’t want anyone to hurt.
“Are you close with him?” I find myself asking. “Your son?” Whoever the kid is, I hope he at least has a father who loved him after losing his mom.
Rian sighs. “I haven’t been a good father to him—not after…well, not after,” he says again. “But I love my son. There’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t do for him…which is why I won’t die…or go to prison. You can’t kill me, Abbott, remember that. Not when I have unfinished business with my son.”
There is nothing taunting about what he just said. He isn’t telling me that to get under my skin. It’s like he wants me to understand why all of this is happening, why there’s nothing he won’t do to get out of the situation we’re in, even though that means me dying.
And even though I still refuse to let that happen, refuse to give up, there’s a part of me that respects him for it—that can feel the love he has for his son, even though I don’t want to think of him being the kind of man who can love someone at all. It’s easier that way.
“He’s lucky…your son. Not everyone has that.”
Rian frowns, the lines in his forehead that are somehow already familiar forming when his brows crease. “You didn’t?”
I probably should lie, but I don’t have it in me. My head is a mess, like my whole being is on edge as I try to adjust to this situation I’ve found myself in. “No. My father doesn’t love anyone but himself…but that doesn’t change the fact that he would do anything to find me, to bring me home.” Even if that’s only so he can look like a hero, so he can capitalize on my kidnapping, and what people will think of him when he brings me home.
“I didn’t either,” Rian finally says. “My father was…horrible, if I’m being honest. I won’t let that be the legacy I give my son. He’s a better man than any of us.”
With those final words, Rian turns around, grabbing two plates from the cabinet, just as the scent of burnt bread hits my nose. “I think your toaster is broken,” I say as he pops it manually, and four black pieces jump out.