Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 77775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
I wolf down my sandwich, trying and failing to not think about Jude’s lack of trust in me. It hurts that he thinks I’m some vile homewrecker. I’ve always wanted to repair homes, not wreck them. My own home was the worst kind of wreck. For my actions to not seem genuine makes me question my line of work.
What else would I be doing besides helping people through their traumas?
I could work at the animal shelter again. Though that makes my heart squeeze at the thought of seeing all those sad animals that need rehoming. I know it’s not the right place for me. I’m doing the work I’ve been called to do. This work helps people. It helps me.
Screw Jude.
Screw Sean and Dad and every other asshole who makes me question what kind of man I am.
I’m a good person who just wants to feel safe and loved. That’s not a big ask.
After I finish breakfast, I thumb through my notebook and then settle on today’s schedule. Willa is first. She had me pencil her in for today while we were out for her appointment. At least with Willa, I can breathe. I love her quiet disposition and the kindness she exudes. I’m looking forward to letting my guard down with her.
Violet slips in to grab my plate and refresh my coffee. Her eyebrows are furrowed as she studies me. Then, in a surprise move, she leans forward and kisses the top of my head.
“You’re doing great, sweetie.”
I have to bite down on my bottom lip to keep from tearing up. Thankfully, she shuffles out of the room without saying more or seeing the unmasked emotion on my face. Had Mom lived until now, would she have been that way? Offering affection and words of encouragement at every turn?
Pain claws at my heart, but I don’t have the time to bathe in the sticky blood of it. I need to get my head screwed back on so I can help these people. Once they’re helped and I collect some decent pay for it, I’m out of here. I’ll start fresh somewhere far away from Washington.
Heavy footsteps thud down the hall toward the library. I brace myself for another altercation with Jude. This is how it was with Sean. Always waiting for his anger, his accusations, his distrust, and ultimately his physical abuse.
I hate that I fall into these same patterns over and over again, escaping one monster, only to fall into the arms of another.
The scent of expensive masculine cologne precedes my visitor. Instead of Willa or Jude, Callum strides into the room wearing a crisp, well-fitting three-piece suit. His dark hair is tousled and styled to perfection and his piercing blue eyes are fiery with determination.
Crap.
“Oh, hey,” I say, choosing to greet him with the calm, casual vibe we had going before I was ripped out of his home. “Where’s Willa?”
Callum’s nostrils flare and he tears his gaze from me, choosing to look out the window. “Not feeling well. She asked me to take her appointment.”
The ticking muscle in his jaw tells me he’s not thrilled about this. The therapist in me, however, is a bit eager to get the broody ex-teacher talking. He has beef with his dad and Jamie, but aside from what others have told me, I don’t know the whole story.
“Have a seat,” I say, settling into professional mode. “I don’t bite, Callum.”
He smirks and finally looks at me again. “Right.”
Callum takes a seat and rests one of his leather shoes on one knee as he leans back in the chair across from me. He’s a picture of ease and relaxation. His eyes, though, spark with warning and agitation.
“May as well address the elephant in the room,” I tell him with a small shrug. “You despise your father for stealing your girl nearly twenty years ago.”
His lip curls up. “And if I’d rather talk about anything else?”
“We can, but you and I both know Willa didn’t play sick in order to force you into that chair.” I lift a brow in question. “She’s a sweet girl and worries about you.”
He relaxes his shoulders and a small, genuine smile peeks out. “I love her.”
“Who doesn’t? She’s a gentle soul.”
I wait for him to pick off nonexistent lint from his pant leg, choosing not to speak. He knows what we’re here to talk about and clearly needs to work up the nerve.
“He betrayed me,” he says, voice sharp like a blade. “The person I trusted most and fucking adored betrayed me.”
My heart tightens at his confession. I understand feeling betrayed by your father.
“And Jamie?” He scoffs, shaking his head. “I loved her. I wanted to marry her.”
Instead, she slept with his dad, got pregnant, and ended up marrying him.
“Were there problems with you and Jamie or did it come out of the blue?”