Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 54110 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54110 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
It scared her.
Rebecca wasn’t an affectionate woman—she didn’t really know how to show affection—but it didn’t mean she didn’t care for the boy. She may not have given birth to him, but she had raised him since he was a scrawny three-year-old. She had given up her personal life for him, her ambitions and dreams. The ungrateful boy had no right to make her worry so much.
After Andrew failed to turn up at her house on Christmas and then missed her birthday—something he had never done before—Rebecca had had enough.
She overcame her distaste and went looking for him at the Rutledges’ mansion. She had little doubt that Andrew had chosen this place because he knew how much she disliked those people. Well, the stupid boy had underestimated the lengths she was willing to go to for him. She even managed a polite conversation with Shawn Rutledge before he finally led her to Andrew’s room.
“I really hope you can help him,” he said. “He’s freaking me out. He hasn’t left his room for days.”
Rebecca pursed her lips and gave a tight nod.
She entered the room.
The first thing that hit her was the smell—a pungent combination of alcohol, dried vomit, and body odor.
Grimacing in distaste, Rebecca walked to the bed and glared at the man in it. “I have never been more disappointed in my life.”
Andrew focused his glassy eyes on her. “Auntie!” he slurred. “Sorry for not getting up for you. Did you want something from me?”
“You’re pathetic,” Rebecca said bitingly. “What is the meaning of this? Why are you drunk in the middle of the day?”
Andrew took a sip from his bottle of vodka.“Why not? Not like anyone cares.”
I do, she nearly snapped at him.
She didn’t say it. Trying to reason with drunk men was useless.
Rebecca stepped closer and tugged the bottle out of his hand. “You will stop drinking at once. You will take a shower and shave. You will then go downstairs and eat. After that, I’m taking you to a therapist.”
Andrew laughed harshly. “Not going to any therapists. Charlatans, they are.” He laughed again. “I’m talking like Yoda now, huh.”
“You’re not amusing. Get up.”
Andrew didn’t move. He stared at her with sudden seriousness in his gaze, his smile gone. He seemed sober all of a sudden. “Why do you care?” he said. “You don’t, not really.”
Rebecca glared at him. “Don’t tell me what I do or don’t feel, boy. Get up. Now.”
A smile curled Andrew’s lips. There was something bitter about it. Something sour. “If I told you the truth, you’d stop caring very fast, Auntie.”
“I’m losing my patience, Andrew—”
“I had another man’s dick up my ass. I sucked a dick and loved it.”
She stared at him.
He stared back at her, something defiant, hard, and broken in his gaze.
Rebecca said, “Get up and take a shower.”
He blinked, confusion written all over his face.
She would have laughed if there were anything amusing about the situation. Did he think her an idiot? Did he think she hadn’t noticed the way he had looked at that man?
“What?” he said in a small voice, sounding very much like the little boy he’d once been.
She looked away for a moment. “Your sexual experiments, however ill-advised they may be, don’t interest me. Now get up.”
He stared at her. “What if… What if I told you that it isn’t just an experiment?”
She pursed her lips tightly. She didn’t want to have this conversation. She had hoped they would never need to have this conversation. “If you’re trying to say that you’re obsessed with that man, don’t waste your time. I’m not blind. But it will pass. It’s a product of your enforced closeness on that island; that’s all. It’s understandable that you’re confused. You just miss your wife, Andrew.”
He looked away and stared at the ceiling blankly. “Confused. Right.”
“It’s of no relevance. Pull yourself together. Your wife was an amazing woman, but she’s gone. You’re not. Now stop being so pathetic and get up.” She half-regretted her harsh words as soon as she said them, but she’d never been good at showing affection, no matter how much she cared. Giving comfort had never been Rebecca’s strong point—too much stored bitterness of her own to carry around; never mind anyone else’s pain.
He got up.
Watching him sway on his feet made her heart clench. How had they come to this? He’d always been such a good, smart boy. She’d always taught him to be as self-sufficient as she was. Had she failed? Where had she gone wrong? He shouldn’t have been such a mess after losing his wife. Millions of men lost their spouses and went on with their lives. Was this the survivor’s guilt?
Unless… unless this was about more than just Vivian. Could he need someone to love him to feel his own worth?
The thought was highly unsettling, but it refused to disappear, no matter how much she pushed it away.