Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 163089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 815(@200wpm)___ 652(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 815(@200wpm)___ 652(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
“I do.”
“What were you to my son, Marcus?”
“His man,” I say without hesitation. “We were in a relationship.”
“Hmm.”
I frown. What does that mean? I expected narrowed eyes, anger, or even threats, but Lawrence seems to be contemplating something.
He makes a dismissive gesture with his hand. “It doesn’t matter at this stage, you wouldn’t have lasted with Preston anyway.”
“Says who?”
“Logic.” He speaks in a low voice. “Preston needs someone to bring him from the edge at all times. Someone who’ll recognize when his hallucinations and brain are acting up more than normal and make the hard decisions to either medicate or put a leash on him. Someone like me, Jude, or Kane.”
“Well, none of you managed to save him.”
“Neither did you, Marcus.”
I swallow thickly, but before I can say anything, he asks, “If he were alive, Andrew and I would’ve separated you two anyway, so isn’t it better that this happened?”
“You would’ve never separated us.” I stand toe to toe with him. “If he were alive, I would’ve taken him far away from all of you.”
36
PRESTON
Fais dodo, mon petit trésor,
Maman veille, même quand il fait noir.
Ferme les yeux, garde bien ton ciel,
Si je pars, je serai dans tes ailes.
Dors, mon cœur, oublie les voix,
Quand tu trembles, pense seulement à moi.
Si demain je ne suis plus là,
Dans tes rêves, je te prendrai dans mes bras.
Mom?
I blink, and her soft face blurs into focus. She looks like Dr. Duret with her gentle features and high cheekbones, her chestnut hair, and thin lips.
Her arms are wrapped around me tightly as she rocks back and forth, stroking my back. Her brittle voice carries on with the lullaby.
It’s that night she left me all over again.
Was she trembling this much? Was her voice shaking like this?
Could it be that I was so overwhelmed by the feeling of safety that I blocked just how much she was struggling to stay afloat?
The lullaby drifts and drifts. The words are different from the usual “Fais dodo, Colas mon p’tit frère,” which she often sang to me before bed.
Why didn’t I notice it back then?
The French words seep into my head like tendrils of smoke, their meaning slowly ripping through me.
Go to sleep, my little treasure.
Mama’s watching, even when it’s dark.
Close your eyes, hold tight to your sky,
If I leave, I’ll be there tucked in your wings.
Sleep, my heart, forget the voices,
When you tremble, just think of me.
If tomorrow I’m no longer here,
In your dreams, I’ll still hold you in my arms.
My throat closes as I register the last two lines. She was saying goodbye?
“Mom…” I croak, reaching out to her worn-out face. “Don’t leave me.”
“Mon chou (My darling), my love…” She strokes my hair, eyes shining in the dim light. “Mommy was such a bad mom. I’m so sorry.”
“No…no…I love you, Mom.”
“I love you, too, trésor. You grew up into such a handsome young man.” She kisses my forehead, her lips shaking against my skin. “I’m so proud of how far you’ve come. I’m proud you didn’t follow me. You survived better than me during all these years, Pressie. You’re way stronger than me. I hope you know that, my sweet boy.”
“No, I’m so weak, Mom.”
“No, you’re not. I am. It hurt so much, I chose to leave, but you chose to stay despite the pain. You’re an admirable survivor, mon petit (my little one).”
My throat closes, my nose tingling as tears well in my eyes. “But you can’t stay for me?”
“It’s not good for you if I stay, Pres.”
“Take me with you, then.”
“No. You have so many people waiting for you, mon amour (my love).” She hugs me close, singing in French. “Sleep, my heart, forget the voices. When you tremble, just think of me. If tomorrow I’m no longer here, in your dreams, I’ll still hold you in my arms…If tomorrow I’m no longer here, in your dreams I’ll still hold you in my arms…”
I open my eyes, and the first thing I notice is the lack of warm arms wrapped around me.
Then stinging pain follows, spreading across my chest and all the way to my bones.
My tongue feels so heavy in my mouth, and it tastes like sandpaper. Flashing light creeps into my vision, and I groan softly.
Is this hell or something?
My head is groggy, running through all the glamorous options that led to my death.
Flashes of memories trickle in, all jagged and distorted.
Noises and screams and pop, pop, pop—
“Preston…baby…please…”
I gulp, jerking up, then grunting when pain explodes all over my body.
Fuck.
Marcus.
It was Marcus who held me in my last moments, right?
Fuck.
What have I done?
Or maybe I hallucinated that? Was I so desperate to see him one final time that I made it all up?
Firm, strong hands push me back. “Preston, you need to stay calm.”
Long bursts of air rip out of my lungs as Dad’s serious face materializes in front of me.