Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 107166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
My face nuzzles into his neck. The smell of his cologne, or maybe aftershave, infiltrates my nose, keeping me tethered to the earth.
I inhale him in and will myself to stay and not escape into the crevice of my mind where I used to go. His hand is on my back. He rubs softly as I hiccup through tears.
“I have you,” he tells me. I hold him tighter. “Inhale.” He rubs my wrist.
For a minute, I’m transported back. To a far-off world. Long before.
Tobias isn’t holding me now. No, I’m being held by a boy with crisp blue eyes.
I shake my head and push away the memories.
Tobias isn’t that boy.
That boy died.
But my fucked-up brain doesn’t want to believe that. It wants to worm its way into my brain and send me back in time, but I can’t go back there. Not when he just told me my father is dying.
Lifting my hand, I swipe the tears under my eyes, but I’m still not strong enough to move away. I still need the protection of Tobias’s arms. A thought I won’t allow myself to think about now, no, that will have to wait until tomorrow. For now, I’ll take comfort, even if it’s from him.
23
Tobias
As she cries in my arms, I hold her.
The desire to fix all her problems tightens around my chest. It feels suffocating. The need to protect her fills every inch of my body.
If only I could.
You can.
She doesn’t even remember you.
Why help her?
You weren’t important enough to remember.
A voice in the back of my head tells me to get over the anger and let it go. I sound like a little bitch, singing a Disney song meant for little girls dressed in princess costumes. Who the fuck cares anymore? Get over it.
I pull her closer, and her soft breath tickles my neck.
Having her in my arms feels right. Despite everything, I know I need her.
Not now, though. And not on false pretense.
Once I find out if I can trust her, she’ll be mine, and I won’t let her go. But how do I see if I can trust her?
It feels wrong setting her up. It feels like a betrayal. Give her information to see if she leaks it? That is the only way. Take her with you to a meeting and then set her up to see what she does.
The idea feels wrong, but before I tell her the truth, my truth, I have to see if she’s worth the risk.
A part of me knows she is.
But another part still wonders why she’s working with Felix or if that is a mere coincidence. I don’t believe in coincidences, though.
“I can’t lose him, Tobias.” Her voice cuts through my inner rambling. I can give her false promises, but I read the report Jaxson provided. There’s no hope. Once I found out what tests they had billed to insurance for her dad, I had Jaxson dig even deeper.
Ralph Matthews is dying.
It’s not if, it’s when, and by the reports, it doesn’t look good. The doctors are anticipating six months, if not shorter.
I don’t offer any kind words. There’s nothing to say.
“He’s all I have,” she whimpers. My hand runs circles up her back. “H-He adopted me.” Skye’s voice sounds broken. She’s barely holding on, falling apart at the seams. All I want to do is hold her together.
Her words have my hands stopping. I’m surprised she’s offering this up to me. But as a greedy fuck, I take it.
“He did?” I ask.
I pretend not to know, but that’s a lie. I know everything about Skye. From the moment I recognized her in the courtroom, I have made it my duty.
“My parents died. He took me in. He is everything to me. He took a scared, sad girl”—a sob breaks through her lips—“and taught me how not to be scared.”
I feel like my throat is closing. I want to ask, but I don’t.
“I don’t talk about it. I don’t think about it. My brain sometimes has a hard time remembering, but he helped me. He helped me make peace. And when I couldn’t remember—”
“Couldn’t remember what?” I ask her, desperate to know more. Desperate to know everything.
She shakes her head, and I hear a whimper as her body starts to shake again.
What doesn’t she remember from her childhood? And if she doesn’t remember her childhood, is there more she doesn’t remember? Am I a casualty of another story that passed through the cracks?
One day, I’ll ask. One day, I will tell her my full story, but right now, I just hold her in my arms and let her cry.
Because today isn’t about me.
Today isn’t about my need for truth.
Today is about realizing that sometimes you put your own shit down and pick up the load for someone else.
24
Skye
Days have passed since my meltdown. I’m back in his office and back to work.