Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 81986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
“That’s what she said. But the result was the same.” I swung my legs back and forth against the car’s bumper, letting the pressure on my calves distract me from the sharpness of the memory. “She cried. He cried. I cried alone upstairs.”
“And they never told you what they learned?”
“No.” I shook my head. We hadn’t been that kind of family. No big talks or family meetings, only a lot of weighty silences and unsaid truths. “And I didn’t reveal either. I just set about being the best kid either could ask for.”
“Oh, Worth.” Sam’s voice cracked, and I made the mistake of looking at him. His usual cheerful face had sagged into despair, eyes creased with pain.
“Don’t look so sad, Sam.” I laid a hand on his thigh. “The perfectionist complex got me into Stanford. Top of my field. Sweet wheels.”
“And a guilt complex larger than the Rockies. You cannot blame yourself for your mother’s murder.” As his voice turned more emphatic, his expression hardened. “And that’s what it was. Murder. You don’t get to blame her murder on your existence.”
“But my parents had to get married.” My protest sounded weak, even to my own ears. I knew blaming myself didn’t make sense, but my inner ten-year-old didn’t care about logic. “And it wasn’t always a happy marriage. There were moments, but he had exacting standards. Liked things just so. She chafed at the rules. But she stayed because of me.”
“No, she stayed because she was an adult, and she made her own decisions and choices.” Cupping my chin, Sam peered deep into my eyes. I wished I had even a tenth of his conviction.
“But I left for college, leaving her alone and vulnerable…”
“Still not your fault.” Sam nodded with each word.
“I could have helped the investigation more.” I needed Sam to understand that I was no saint. I had so many layers of blame, thick like ivy, impossible to claw through. “I was so damn sure my dad did it too.”
“You were hardly alone in that assumption.”
“Yeah, but I was his kid. Biology or not, I should have been more loyal.” Closing my eyes, I could still feel my rage at the gossip and hear every angry word that had spilled from my mouth. “I told him to his face that I thought he did it last time I was in that house. Told him he wasn’t my father on my way out the door. He died a few days later. Toxicology was inclusive. He’d had alcohol, but the autopsy looked more like a heart attack. I knew the truth though.”
“That it was a tragic accident.” Sam gripped my arm like that might be enough to convince me.
“He died of a broken heart.” It would take more than Sam’s iron grasp to change my mind. “He thought she’d run away. And then I left him too.”
“Worth.” Sam’s voice barely registered over the roaring in my ears.
“I never got to take it back.” I rocked back and forth against the trunk. “Hell, I guess I’m more like her after all. Didn’t even occur to me that I might have been wrong until Monroe started digging, until Cal’s dive…”
I trailed off, crying too hard to continue. Sam held me tightly, both arms around me. I was making a mess of his nice church shirt, but he didn’t seem to mind as he patted my back and smoothed my hair. My damp hair. I glanced up. Sam was crying too, eyes blotchy and red.
“You’re crying too.” My tone was accusatory but more at myself for making him upset.
“My heart is breaking for you.” Sam brushed my hair off my forehead. I needed a cut in the worst way, but at that moment, the extra length felt good sliding through Sam’s fingers. “You were so, so brave.”
I snorted. “More like stupid.”
“Brave. And loving.” Sam sounded so convinced, voice as intent as his gaze, like he knew far better than me.
“You gonna tell me again how my heart was in the right place?” I managed a shaky laugh as Buttercup trotted over to head butt us, a wary expression on her dusty doggie face.
“It was.” Sam picked up Buttercup and plunked her on my lap. “You loved your mom. Everything you did was because you loved her.”
“Yeah.” Still weeping, I buried my face against the dog’s neck, the fabric of her collar rough on my cheek.
“And him. You loved your dad too.”
“But I thought he’d done it.” A broken noise escaped my throat as Sam gathered me and Buttercup against his chest.
“You loved him.” Sam’s voice was firm. “Now you get your memories back. The happy ones with the three of you.”
“Yeah.” I took a few shallow breaths.
“I wish I could make this better for you.” Sam sounded as broken as I felt. “Or at least hurt less. I’m so sorry, Worth. Sometimes life is so damn cruel and unfair.”