Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
“Yes, sir.” She chuckled but Shane didn’t return it.
He pushed the hair off her forehead and gave her another kiss. By the time he got back with her ice water, she was already asleep again.
It was after 2 a.m. by the time he got out of the shower and climbed into bed. He wouldn’t sleep—there wasn’t a chance of that. He’d spent the night tossing and turning and wondering what in the hell his mom had been talking about when it came to Max. She couldn’t be right. Couldn’t.
Still, when he rolled out of bed at five and packed his truck up with fishing supplies, he made his way to the Sullivan house instead of his quiet fishing spot. He may not be able to forgive the guy for the emotional scars he’d left on his own soul, but he could acknowledge what he’d done for his mom.
Thank you for your help yesterday. I owe you one.
Then before he talked himself out of it, Shane added to the note, scribbling down where he was going fishing. It was out of the way, and there was a chance Maxwell couldn’t find it or wouldn’t be interested. He almost hoped he wouldn’t, because he still wasn’t sure how he felt about the man. He appreciated the hell out of what Maxwell had done for his mom…but that didn’t wipe away years of hate.
At least he had done the right thing. He really did owe Maxwell…and there was a quiet part of him that wanted to know if what his mom thought about Maxwell was true. The boy he’d known before definitely wouldn’t have done what Max had done yesterday. Not unless he would get something out of it.
Shane left his truck running as he put the note under the windshield wiper of the car he’d seen Maxwell in yesterday, and before he could grab it back and rip it up, he got into his truck and drove away.
CHAPTER SEVEN
It was early when Van woke to the sound of a soft engine. It wouldn’t have woken him in LA but it was different here—quiet. The sun rose on his side of the house, breaking through the shades much earlier than he usually climbed out of bed. It wasn’t as though he would be able to sleep much, anyway. His father was gone but the memories were still in every room of the house. His father’s ghost hid around every corner and in his mom’s eyes.
Not that she had ever done anything to hurt him, but she hadn’t done anything to protect him, either. Her loyalty was always with her husband.
Van pushed out of bed and stretched. He rubbed a hand across his stomach before making his way to the bathroom.
He needed to take a piss, make some coffee, and then go straight into his father’s office to start looking through paperwork, gathering anything his mom might need and tossing what she didn’t. It was the room he hated most, so he wanted it done first. The sooner he got things sorted out there, the faster he could get his ass back to LA where he belonged. When he left Last Chance this time, he knew there wasn’t a damn thing that could bring him back. He would be done with this place for good.
Van finished taking a leak, washed his hands, and then brushed his teeth. He stepped out of the bathroom and went straight for the window, where his suitcase sat on the seat below it. That was new. There hadn’t been a window seat there when Van was growing up.
After he pulled a paint-stained T-shirt from his suitcase, Van looked up, and his eyes caught something on the windshield of his car. He frowned, remembering the soft rumble he’d heard before he opened his eyes a few minutes earlier.
It was from Shane. Van didn’t know how he knew, but he knew. Jesus, the look on Shane’s face when he saw him. He’d thought it was full of hate at the diner, but that was nothing compared to the contempt directed his way when Shane caught him with his mom.
Could he blame Shane, though? After the things they’d all said about her? After the things he’d said and done to Shane himself? The truth was, he couldn’t blame Shane for the concern he likely felt over Van seeing his mom at a low point. He really fucking couldn’t.
Van tugged the tee over his head, changed his underwear, and then pulled on the jeans he’d worn the day before. He grabbed a pair of white socks from his suitcase, hopping toward the door as he pulled them on. His pulse beat faster than it had a few moments before. He hated the reality of the things he’d done, who he’d been when he lived in that town, and most of that self-hatred was because of the man who’d likely left a note on his car minutes earlier.