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)
But he didn’t.
He’s using his office to go full scorched earth, and that’s how I have to respond. Winnie doesn’t have the expertise, and now there’s a very real chance she’s made it worse.
“This is my problem,” she insists, her voice choking. “It’s my father and this is all because of me. Because he wanted to marry me off to that scumbag and I said no. Because you tried to protect me.”
“It’s my company and my problem, Winnie.” I stand, too. She seems so small suddenly, this fragile slip of a woman I’d risk the universe for. “Let me fix it.”
“Archer… I know you mean well,” she starts, but I shake my head, cutting her off.
“This isn’t about meaning shit. It’s about dealing with the problem in the most effective way, head-on.”
“I can’t just sit on the sidelines. Sorry, but I can’t. I’ve been doing that my entire life and that’s what got me into this mess.” She reaches out to brush my cheek, delicately feeling my beard. “For the first time in my life, I’m standing my ground. I’m not running. That shouldn’t destroy me. And I certainly can’t let my problems destroy you either.”
I push her hand away, irrationally annoyed at this destruction talk.
Carroll Emberly hasn’t wrecked anyone yet.
God willing, he won’t, if I have my way—and I will.
Compared to feeling your friend’s heart stop while he bleeds out in your arms on Syrian soil, this is a high school drama.
“You worry about your damn bees. Leave the legal crap to me. That’s what I pay my people through the nose for,” I say, my voice too harsh. She flinches back. I see it, but I can’t stop myself. “And if your old man’s so corrupt he’s willing to step in and protect the bastard you got away from, I’ll bring him down, too. I’m not scared, Winnie. I’m not afraid to fight.”
She stills, and for a second, I’m sure I’ve said the wrong thing.
Whatever else he is, he’s her father.
Then she exhales and shakes her head. “I know. I just wish you’d let me help.”
“This isn’t something you can help me with.”
“Please don’t push me away, Archer,” she says, her voice smaller than ever.
“I’m not pushing. I’m protecting you, protecting both of us.”
She sighs.
“But that’s exactly what you’re doing right now. I want to help you face this head-on, not hide away like some helpless little doll you put on a shelf.”
“Don’t you think you’ve done enough?” I snap, and she flinches back. Shit. “Look, I know you tried when you called him up, you had good intentions, but—” I exhale, frustrated. “Can’t you see I’m doing this to help you too? I need you to trust me.”
She folds her arms. Her hair almost seems like it’s bristling.
“Actually, sometimes I can’t. If you just shut me out, if you insist it doesn’t concern me when it clearly does… Archer, how can I trust anything you say?”
I stare at her, my nostrils flaring.
“If you can’t trust me, then maybe none of this is right.”
Fucking hell.
As soon as it’s left my mouth, I want to claw the words right back.
Her face whitens. I think she might cry again.
But I guess that’s not what she does when she’s hurt, because when she looks up at me, her wide eyes so full of agony it rips at my heart, she’s calm. Composed.
“Wait—” I start, but she waves away my words.
“Maybe you’re right.”
“I didn’t mean it.”
“But you did,” she says coldly.
What is happening?
I want her to break down, to rage at me, to put me back in my place for running my mouth, but she just looks lost now. All this venom and agony deep inside her where I can’t reach.
It fucking hurts watching her.
Like she’s so used to being tossed aside, she knows how to handle the rejection.
“Winnie, I didn’t mean it. I was just frustrated.”
“You don’t just say something like that and take it right back.” She sniffs. “Especially when you… you meant every word.”
Damn.
I know I can’t undo it, I know it’s not that easy, but this is shredding me. I don’t even know what the fuck I really meant. I was just spouting off because I was pissed, scared at the thought of her suffering.
The look on her face screams pain.
“I know you’re angry, and I know you said it because you’re mad,” she says, still quiet. I reach out to her and she steps back. “But you’re right. This isn’t working.”
“You can’t mean that,” I rasp out, feeling like she’s shot me through the heart.
Her lip quivers, sadness filling her eyes.
“Wouldn’t it be easier than fighting him? I walk out, I go somewhere he can’t find me, and then he has no reason to come after you.” She gestures between us, her hand shaking.
When I reach out to grab her, she sweeps back to the door, leaving before I can try to mitigate this train wreck. And yes, I’m the idiot conductor who ran it off the rails.