Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 86398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Misery washed over me, and then Annie waved at me from her spot in the kitchen.
Fresh start.
We could have this fresh start.
It could be different.
Maybe it wouldn’t be the same, but did that make it any less beautiful? No. Not with Annie. With her, it would still be… glorious. Like a sunrise.
I caught her eye, and with a laugh, she strolled over and wrapped her arms around my neck from behind.
I tilted back and lifted my chin, meeting her halfway with a kiss that had everyone groaning around us.
I couldn’t stop smiling.
And I hated how long it took me to get to this place, with myself, with her.
My emotions were overwhelming as I held her close, and I knew nothing. Nothing in the world would change this.
Ever.
Chapter Thirty-Four
“Sometimes you will never know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory.”—Dr. Seuss
Chase
The Past: The Day of The Accident
“Tank,” I barked into the phone. “I’m busy; what is it?”
He was quiet. Was he crying? Not breathing?
“Tank,” I ground out.
“She’s… she’s okay.”
“Who?” I roared. Imagining my daughters, my wife, anyone I loved getting hurt had me crushing the phone until I was sure it would crumble into tiny pieces of dust.
“Claire.” He sighed. “I mean, she looks rough, but she’s okay… at least I think she is, the doctors aren’t… they aren’t fully sure yet because there could be some internal damage.”
“Fuck!” I roared. “What the hell happened?”
“Cut brakes, meant for Ash, you need to get down here, Nikolai’s already seen her, but she’s asking for you.”
Those words.
Those damning words.
“Okay.” I hung up.
I slid my phone into my pocket.
I stared out the kitchen window.
The same one I watched my son play outside with his siblings, the same one I saw him walk through with Claire on his arm, declaring her his.
The same window.
The same fucking window I saw so many things through.
And yet, they were never clear, were they?
Altered, yes they were altered by the angle of the sun, the moon, the thickness of the glass; I only saw what I wanted.
I only saw what I needed to see.
So did Ash.
And Claire?
She only saw Ash.
Until she didn’t.
Until. She. Didn’t.
Did she ever even realize it?
Memories assaulted me then of a moment so long ago when I’m sure Luca or Frank, the original bosses, stared out a different window and watched me walk in, with Trace on my arm, after Nixon’s so-called death.
I claimed her as mine.
I wanted her.
I wanted her too much.
And then I realized it wasn’t my path.
Nixon had known, though, and he’d been willing, he’d been what I couldn’t be, and I hadn’t even realized it until that moment.
I’m sure they watched like I did then.
I’m sure they were silent like I so often was.
Letting all of us figure out the pain on our own, knowing we would suffer, knowing there would be tears, blood, pain.
But knowing, in the end, it would be worth it.
“God.” I clutched the kitchen sink and lowered my head. “Forgive me… Forgive me…”
“Everything okay?” Luc came up behind me, sliding her arms around my middle, holding me tight, resting her head against my back.
All roads had led to her.
The excruciating pain had been worth it.
The moments of darkness.
When I thought I knew what was best for me, for family, for everyone around me.
But the universe knew.
Hell, maybe God took pity.
But they led me to her.
“Something’s happened,” I whispered, my voice shook. Because my son.
My son would suffer.
And I couldn’t see past his pain—to hers.
“Claire’s been in an accident.”
Luc gasped then hugged me tighter. “What hospital? We need to go. Now!”
“Yeah.” I lowered my head, in prayer, in reverence, in forgiveness. “One more minute, Luc. Give me one more minute to be the father I need to be, for the son I never deserved.”
“Chase, what—”
“The sun…” I held her tight. “It’s beautiful today… like a new beginning.”
“A new beginning,” she agreed. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
No. “I have you. How could I not be?” I turned and crushed her against me. “Our son needs us now. I need you.”
She looked up at me with wonder in her eyes and said, “Where else would I be? Than by your side?”
She confirmed it.
My wife.
Her words.
Her confidence.
A half-hour later, I walked into that room, and I sat while machines hummed and beeped all around us.
I reached for her hand, and I squeezed.
She squeezed back.
The door closed as Nikolai cleared his throat. “I’m ready.”
I sighed.
But she squeezed.
So I nodded my head.
I left that room.
Ten minutes later, Nikolai was back out, and my son was running down the halls, tears streaming down his face.
And all I could think was.
What in God’s name.
Had. I. Done.
Chapter Thirty-Five
“That it will never come again is what makes life so sweet.” —Emily Dickinson
Annie
It felt right.
Being with them.
In that room.
Drinking, celebrating, letting my guard down. About a dozen times, Ash glanced over, his eyes full of heat.