Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 137131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
“Really?” she whispers.
He nods decisively and turns to me.
“If you’d like, Mr. Rory, I’m prepared to go public with property damage claims on Higher Ends’ behalf. Holden told me the truth, so the proof is ironclad. I’ll ensure he repays every penny owed.”
Winnie waves her sobbing mother off to one side so she can look at her dad with a clear view. He glances down at our linked fingers but says nothing.
“I’ll discuss it with my brothers and let you know later. Right now, all that matters is she’s safe, and she needs rest. So if you’ll kindly wrap this up…”
Linda bursts out sobbing again as her husband takes the hint.
With halting steps, he marches his wife out of the room, and the air becomes easier to breathe again.
Colt’s waiting at home when I get back around ten o’clock in the morning.
Last night, I called Mom to sleep over and watch him, but she had to leave this morning for her art group. I find my boy alone, staring at his phone. He drops it in his lap the instant I walk into the room.
“How’s Winnie?” he asks eagerly.
For a second, he looks so grown-up it makes my throat tighten.
Only thirteen and the kid’s a damn mini-me with twice my maturity at his age.
“She’s good, Son. She rested up and she was looking much better when I left.”
I texted him brief messages about her progress last night, but I guess he needed to hear me say it to be certain.
I can’t blame him. Typing lies is easy enough, but your face tells things you can’t hide.
“Holy crap… thank God!” He fist pumps the air. “I was watching TikToks about people who went missing, all the bad stuff that can happen…”
I can’t help smiling when I rush over.
I drag him up in a bear hug and hold him so tight my shoulders ache.
I need to hold my kindhearted, nervous boy.
I need to banish his fear.
Hell, maybe we should be hugging like this more often, even if I know how much teenagers become allergic to it. I’m sure he needs it as much as I do.
I feel the way he exhales slowly, the fear draining out of him.
“She’ll be okay, Colt,” I say. “She was dehydrated and delirious, but she’s awake now. She’s getting plenty of fluids. Do you want to visit later? I’m sure she’ll love it.”
“Sure,” he says, his voice muffled. He doesn’t let go, and neither do I. “Is it true you found her in the woods?”
“Yeah. She was hanging out by some bees. I picked her up and carried her back to the rescue team.”
He laughs loudly.
“Bees? Damn, that’s Winnie, all right. Cool, Dad.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He pulls back and looks up at me with the biggest smile I’ve seen him wearing in ages.
He doesn’t have to look too far to meet my eyes anymore.
He’s been growing like a thistle all summer, and though he’s awkward and gangly, I know he’ll grow into his own tall body soon enough.
I couldn’t be happier he’s my flesh and blood.
Later, we’re on our way out to the hospital when I notice another vehicle following us. I’m scowling before Colt says a word, annoyed how I know it’ll cut in front of us.
By the time we’re in the parking lot, Rina’s standing next to her Jeep, waiting.
The way she’s standing makes me wary. She’s all tucked in, looking at us with both her hands clasped in front of her.
“Wait in the car a sec,” I tell Colt before striding over.
We haven’t spoken since our meeting at that little coffee shop where she told me all about her reasons for coming back, and how she was almost angry enough to destroy the bees before Holden beat her to it.
I don’t know what else she has to say.
This certainly isn’t the time or place.
“Not a good time, Ri,” I tell her as I approach.
A strand of chestnut hair falls over her face and she brushes it back. I think I spy a new tattoo on her wrist, an intricate mesh of fine lines I can’t decipher.
“Colt told me about Winnie,” she says. “I’m so sorry.”
“She’ll be fine. Nothing to worry about,” I clip.
“Oh, I’m glad. I know Colt was pretty scared.”
I glance back at our son, who’s still strapped in the passenger seat, staring at his phone and pretending he’s not watching us every chance he gets.
Another reason to try to keep this civil.
“What did he tell you?”
“Not much. He didn’t know a ton when he called last night.”
Damn, that’s a first, calling his mom because he was worried?
I know I was too busy to take his calls or help his anxiety much beyond sending the occasional update, but shame still creeps through me.
He’s my son. I should’ve done better.
“Why are you here?” I ask.
She sighs. “Look, I know I’m hardly your favorite person right now, but I’ll only be a second. I emailed you those photos I took of Holden Corban attacking those bee box things. I don’t know if you’re going after him legally, but if you are, it’s proof. And, you know, a gesture of goodwill.”