Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
If that rocket exploded…I wouldn’t know what to do.
I couldn’t go through that again.
My phone started to ring beside me, my dad’s name on the screen.
He’d texted me earlier that morning, but I didn’t text him back. But now that he’d told Emerson something that was frankly not his business to share, I wanted to talk to him even less. I let it go to voice mail.
He didn’t leave a message.
I turned back to my work and forgot about the call altogether.
It was almost eleven o’clock at night and I should be in bed, but I dreaded closing my eyes, knowing exactly what I would see. My dad tried to give me pictures of my mother when I moved out, but I didn’t want them, so I left them at the house. He could burn them for all I cared.
A knock sounded on the door.
I released a loud, frustrated sigh because I knew exactly who it was.
I nearly knocked over my scotch as I crossed the living room. I flung the door open. “What is everyone’s obsession with talking about something I clearly don’t want to talk about? I just can’t have a shitty day—”
He moved into me and embraced me hard, his arms holding tight, giving me a hug like I was still a child instead of a grown man at his height. His hand cupped the back of my head, and he just held me.
I stilled at his affection, sensing the anger slowly leaving my body as I felt my father hold me. My arms moved around his body, and I gripped him with the same desperation. He was always there for me, always loved me, always made me feel loved when she didn’t. I had the best dad in the world—and I fucking knew it. I inhaled a deep breath and felt my eyes water until the tears fell down my cheeks.
He seemed to know exactly what was happening without even looking at me because he said, “I’m here, little man. I’m here…”
The days passed in a bit of a blur.
I continued to think about my mom, think about the last time we were physically together in the same room, and I questioned the last time I spoke to her. I thought it would make me feel better, but even if she had lived, I doubt it would have made a difference. I didn’t know why I couldn’t just let the past go, just accept that she didn’t love me, but my father and Cleo did. Cleo was my mother…so why did I care?
If my outburst caused her to have a heart attack, that was on her. If she hadn’t been a piece of shit, that never would have happened in the first place. She deserved to die.
I sighed to myself, knowing that was a terrible thing to say even in my head, and I didn’t mean it.
I knew it hurt me because I wished things had been different, that I did have a relationship with her, that maybe if I’d done or said something differently, she would have wanted to spend time with me, would have wanted to call me.
Because she was still my mom.
And that ate at me every single day.
Emerson was cautious around me. It didn’t seem like she was angry with me, but she was definitely withdrawn, as if she were waiting for my mood to pass.
But this time, it felt like it wouldn’t pass. Now that I’d told her about it, I kept thinking about that phone call over and over, wishing I’d just taken the high road and hadn’t left that goddamn voice mail.
She would still be alive, and maybe we could have had a relationship someday.
Maybe it was just worse because my rocket was supposed to launch in three days.
Three fucking days.
I looked forward to it because I wanted it to be over. I wanted to see it take off into the sky and have a successful mission. Then brush off the stress and anxiety and move on. If it didn’t, I didn’t know what I would do.
“Derek?”
I didn’t even notice Emerson was there until I heard her voice. I lifted my chin and looked at her.
“Wanted to see if you’d like to come over tonight and have dinner with us.” She wore a sad look, as if she already knew what answer I would give.
I wasn’t angry with Emerson. She wasn’t the problem. I was. “I can’t. The rocket is taking off on Monday. I need to focus.”
Her eyes dropped in disappointment. “Derek, the rocket is already built. There’s nothing you can do—”
“I’m not in the mood to pretend I’m not stressed out right now. I’m in the mood to pretend everything is fine around Lizzie. I’m sorry. I just want Monday to come and go already.”
“And that’s all that’s bothering you?” she whispered.