Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 52319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Jesus Christ. Am I that fucking easy to read? Seems like everyone is reading me like a book lately.
"I'm trying to believe it," I mutter, staring down at my hands. "But I still hear his fucking voice in my head." I swallow. "A lot more since he died."
"Because of the rumors," she says.
I swallow hard, nodding. "I can't fucking shut them out. I thought I could, but…"
She sighs quietly. "I never wanted any of this for you, Brant. When you told me that you didn't want to release the truth, I should have pushed harder."
"It wasn't just about you, Ma. I…fuck." I rake a hand through my hair, exhaling a shaking breath. "I was in the parking garage that day when they slipped in. I saw them, and I fucking drove away anyway. I figured they were lost or there to rob the damn place, and I just didn't give a shit."
"Brantley," she says, her face falling. "Do the police know?"
I nod. "They've always known. I didn't lie to them about it."
"They know he was an addict?"
I jerk my chin in a nod again. "They haven't released the autopsy results because he didn't come back clean. I did when they tested me. They know the truth."
"Why haven't they cleared you if they…?"
I stare at the floor.
She gasps quietly. "You asked them not release a statement clearing you, didn't you?"
"At the time, I thought it was for the best." I grimace, pinching the bridge of my nose. "We'd decided that we weren't going to tell the truth. There was no reason to open that can of worms."
"Brantley," she sighs, shaking her head. "There was every reason."
"I'm realizing that now," I mutter.
"What happened?"
"Isla left." I swallow, trying to push down the ache in the center of my chest. "She… Christ, Ma. I lied to her. I won't blame her if she never forgives me for it. She deserved the truth."
My mother sighs again, her disappointment obvious. "Sometimes, Brantley Eugene, I think you're hellbent on destroying every good thing in your life."
"Sometimes, I wonder the same damn thing."
"So, what are you going to do about it?" she asks bluntly. "You can't keep on this way. I won't allow it. And that sweet girl isn't going to allow it either. It's gone on for long enough already."
"I know." I scrub my hands over my face. "That's why I'm here, Ma. I'm fucking tired of hearing his voice. I'm tired of carrying his secrets. I…" I pause, searching for words. "I think it's time to tell the truth about who and what he really was, Ma. It's the only way either of us will ever truly be able to move on."
I think I started realizing that when she stopped by the office the other day. Even though he's dead and gone, he still haunts her too. He still has his claws in her, leaving her searching through the wreckage for some little sliver of meaning in it. She was there that day, picking through the past, looking for a tiny kernel to cling to, one that might make it less painful. But there isn't one. Not in looking back, anyway. The only way she's going to find what she's looking for is to let it go. To bury him once and for all.
"I already wrote out a statement," she says, her green eyes locked on my face.
"What?"
"You think you owed me this silence, but I never asked for it, Brantley. I never wanted it. I never cared if they knew the truth. I only ever cared that you were okay." She closes her eyes, leaning back in her chair. "We've carried it long enough, dear. It's time to put it down."
"Jesus," I whisper. "Ma…"
"I made my decision the day I came to see you. I've just been waiting for you to make yours, Brant." Her eyes pop open, focusing on me. "It look you long enough to decide you've got something worth fighting for."
"I knew." I swallow hard, my throat raw with emotion. "I've always known she's worth fighting for. I just wasn't sure I was."
"What changed your mind?"
"She did," I whisper.
My mother smiles. "You better fix what you broke, Brantley Eugene. I'm not going to be very happy with you if she doesn't forgive you."
"I'm working on it, Ma."
"Work harder."
I chuckle, shaking my head. "As hard as I've gotta work to get her back. How's that sound?"
"I suppose it'll do."
I shake my head again, and then sigh. "I've got one other thing to tell you. You probably aren't going to like it."
"Are you drinking again?"
"Two things," I amend. "I went to a bar today. I didn't drink, but it was close."
"Brant," she sighs, worry filling her eyes.
"I'm going to start doing the meetings again. Let Daniel psychoanalyze the fuck out of me." I drum my fingers on the arm of the chair. "Maybe talk to a psychiatrist, too."