Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67905 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67905 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
My father gone just one month after my mother.
I’d shown my father grace by accepting his decision without resentment, but now, I felt differently. If I’d had a family of my own, a father in my life, perhaps I wouldn’t have needed to search for love elsewhere. I wouldn’t have been desperate, so I would have taken my time, not been impressed by Bolton’s handsomeness and his security. Most people had help from their parents all throughout their lives, something to fall back on when they hit hard times, but I never had that.
I’d been on my own far too young.
I wanted to air out my grievances to my father, but the dead couldn’t hear the words of the living. Part of me was jealous that he was there and I was here, breathing the cold winter air. A wedding ring on my left hand that felt like a chain. Miserable down to the bone. If that was the only way out, I might take it.
Maybe I should.
A hand landed on my shoulder.
A jolt moved through my body at the surprise, and for some inexplicable reason, I thought it would be Theo. That he’d tracked me down to apologize. That he understood the same kind of loss.
But it was Bolton.
I almost skirted his touch, but I didn’t have the energy.
His men had followed me and notified him I was there, grieving parents who had been dead nearly ten years now.
He removed his hand, like he could see the discomfort on my face. He slid it back into his pocket and looked at the gravestone for a moment before he looked at me. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“About your father.”
“He’s been gone a long time. It’s fine.”
“Then why are you here?”
“I—I don’t know.” Women talked to their mothers. They talked to their aunts. They went to their fathers when they needed help. I literally had no one. I didn’t have friends who would understand. I didn’t have anyone who loved me enough to care the way my mother would. Theo would probably care, but that bridge had been burned to the ground.
He stared at the side of my face for a long time, watched me stare at the tombstone. “I wish I could take it all back.”
I turned to look at him.
“You used to run to me with your problems, and now you come here.”
I looked at the headstone again.
“I really do love you, Astrid.”
I didn’t have the fire to melt his words. I didn’t have the energy to repeat everything I’d already said before. It wasn’t worth my time. A conversation should lead to choices and change, but since I was locked up in an invisible cage, there was no incentive.
“Astrid—”
“Please just leave me in peace. I came here to see my parents.”
He released a sigh and didn’t move. “I want you to talk to me—”
“And I want you to die.” An explosion of fire came out of nowhere. “Every time you leave, I hope you don’t come back. I hope your target sees you coming and puts a fucking bullet in the back of your head. Why was I given this shitty hand when everyone else seems to have it all? I could have been with a man who actually gave a damn about me, but I chose you. I chose you like a fucking idiot, and now I’m a tiger in a cage that wishes she were dead. I look at this headstone and want to add my name to the list. I’m jealous of dead people, Bolton. Because being with you is that fucking unbearable. Because you sealed my misery the moment our eyes met across that room.”
Bolton was gone for a couple days.
He didn’t tell me he was leaving. Didn’t tell me where he was going or how long he would be gone.
He just left.
Maybe he thought space would cool my rage, but no amount of space could cure my misery. Being in the house alone only amplified the despair and echoed it back at me. The walls were covered with mirrors, and I was forced to look at my hollow appearance night and day.
He finally came home and hung his coat on the rack by the door. His bag was placed on the floor next to his shoes.
I continued to drink my wine like I didn’t notice him.
He slowly walked to the table and took the seat at the head, close enough to touch me if I would allow him. He stared at me.
I stared back.
“I know I should let you go.”
My heart woke from its deep slumber for the first time.
“But I can’t.”
And just like that, it was dead again.
“Because I believe in us. I believe it’s still here…if you would just try.”
“I’m not going to try, Bolton.”
“Please—”
“I can’t try because I don’t love you.”
He flinched slightly, like those words were a knife across his throat. “You forgave me before. You can forgive me again.”