Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 80391 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80391 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Putting my thumb and pointer finger in a C shape, I placed the two fingers in my mouth and whistled lewdly at him.
Raising his fist into the air, he gave a fist pump as he turned the corner at the top of our apartment complex.
Sadly, today he was covering up that beautiful body of his since it was nearly thirty degrees out.
I stood up and made my way to the front porch when I ran smack into the chest of the man that was standing at our door getting ready to knock.
“Oh,” I said rubbing my forehead. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were knocking. I was on the back porch. Can I help you?”
The man was older, mid-fifties or so, and in fairly good condition for his age. He was wearing a pair of black slacks with black shiny shoes, and a pale blue linen button down shirt. His hair was black with silver at the temples; the more I looked at him, the more I realized he looked a lot like someone I knew.
I couldn’t quite place whom, until I saw Kettle running through the parking lot only to come to a sudden screeching halt where my old apartment used to face.
Once I had the two of them in my field of vision, I knew instantly that they were related; most likely father and son.
Kettle didn’t talk about his family much at all, and when he did, it was about Shannon, his sister. I knew that Kettle and his parents had a falling out, but I didn’t know about what, and knew Kettle wouldn’t allow me to pry into this subject. He’d practically shut down for an hour after I’d asked about his father, and I made it a point to steer far away from that subject from then on.
Except now, I was wishing I knew what the hell to do. Did I slam the door in his face and call him an evil bastard? Did I invite me in? Did I yell and scream at him for abandoning his child?
Turns out, I didn’t have to do anything, because Kettle barreled up the walk, pushed me ever so gently inside, and slammed the door in my face.
I could hear Kettle’s raised voice, followed by the smoother voice of the older man, and I felt it best to just go into the bedroom in case they came inside. It was obvious to me that Kettle didn’t want his father there, and more so, he didn’t want me anywhere near his father. I did the only thing I could think of, and that would keep myself the hell out of earshot. I did that by going into the bedroom, closing the door, and cranking up the TV.
***
Kettle
“What the fuck do you want?” I snarled at my father.
My father flinched slightly at the pure venom in my voice, but I didn’t feel one iota of remorse.
“I came because your wife...” My father started before I interrupted him.
“She’s not my wife.” I snarled. “You saw to that, didn’t you?”
My wife? What a fucking joke.
I’d met my ex-wife when we were juniors in high school. She’d been the girl from the wrong side of the proverbial track, and I’d been the rich boy who got snared in her web.
She’d been looking for a payday while I thought I’d genuinely been in love.
Then I’d gotten her pregnant.
When I’d gone home to tell my parents about the baby, my father lost his mind. He kept telling me to ‘take care of it’ then shoved some money into my hand like it was a fix all. When I’d refused, my father kicked me out.
I wasn’t experienced in the least.
Before I’d been kicked out, my mother had refused to let me work, scared to let her son go just in case something happened to me again. Which meant I had no job, no home, and I had a pregnant girlfriend to take care of on top of that.
I did the only thing I could think of that day, and that was to enlist in the army.
I’d done it without Rosalie’s knowledge and paid for it.
The whole situation became a cluster-fuck after that.
Rosalie had agreed to be my wife, and we stayed with friends since neither set of parents allowed us back home. Within a months’ time, I was at boot camp, and then six weeks after that, deployed to Afghanistan to help fight in the War on Terror for a year.
In that time, my fiancé gave birth to our daughter, and then found another man, who’d beaten my child to death when he found out it wasn’t his. All the while, I was halfway across the world in the middle of a firefight.
When I’d gotten home on emergency leave, my father wanted to make friends like nothing had ever happened.
I’d refused, and we hadn’t spoken to each other since.
“Rosalie’s been calling us non-stop trying to get a hold of you. She says she has some things to say and that she really wants to talk to you. I’ve agreed to give you this letter by hand if she stops calling me. So here it is.” My father said as he shoved a letter into my hand and left just as quickly as he came.
I stared at the piece of paper as if it was a live grenade and had to physically restrain myself from ripping it to pieces and burning them to ashes.
When I walked into the apartment, I was glad to see that Adeline wasn’t there. I needed some time to process; I didn’t want to take my demons out on Adeline. She didn’t deserve that, but I also didn’t think I could hold on to my temper much longer, which was why I did what I did next.
“It’s time to go visit the brother.” I said to Silas when he answered the phone.
“Meet you at the clubhouse in ten,” Silas confirmed before hanging up the phone.
I picked up my cut and shrugged it on over my sweats, grabbed my keys off the hook, and left without another word.