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)
“Fuck Holden Corban.” I snarl the words like the man hit me with a sledgehammer instead of the bee boxes. “If we find proof, I will nail his dick to the wall. All the trespassing and destruction of property charges known to man. Hell, maybe terroristic threats if they’ll apply.”
“We’ll see what turns up.” She smiles sadly. “But I really hate looking at all this mess. Can we try to put our lives back together?”
She’s talking about the crime scene, but I read more into her words.
That’s why I nod, roll up my sleeves, and head for the shed.
It takes a couple hours to clean up the disaster zone.
I offered to call in a couple maintenance people to help before we got started, but she insisted we handle it ourselves.
I think she wants to feel every single piece of hurt in her own hands.
As if it was her fault some weak little bastard couldn’t take the hint that she didn’t want to marry him.
Knowing she almost went through with it and married a thin-skinned, passive-aggressive little skidmark makes my blood boil.
I don’t condone murder, obviously, but I wouldn’t shed a tear if he drove himself into a tree.
This shit was a step too far, well beyond any petty acting out.
I have my on-call driver bring Colt over after his math class and brunch with Rina. There’s no use hiding what’s going on when he’s at that age where he’ll just find out anyway.
He arrives around two o’clock, heading into the back garden where we’re gathered.
When he sees what’s left of the devastation, the bee boxes gone, he stops in the middle of the pathway with his eyes like marbles.
“Shit,” he says.
Usually, I’d correct him for his language, but this time it’s warranted.
“Shit,” I agree.
“What happened, guys? Are you all right?” He looks innocently at Winnie, who’s so pale, so fragile in the bright sunlight, like the vivid hurt of this chaos has drained away her color.
“I’m fine, Colt,” she says with an unconvincing smile.
“Hey, bud, you’re just in time. Help me convince Winnie she should go inside and take a break? A nap wouldn’t hurt.” The place probably doesn’t feel safe anymore, but she’s worked through her misery enough for one day.
I don’t want her cleaning the rest out here.
Winnie makes a face. “No, I slept for a million hours last night.”
“You’ll sleep some more.”
Colt glances between us. “…are you guys hooking up?”
Fucking hell, this kid and his mouth.
“Colt,” I say sharply. “You don’t just ask people that.”
“You do when it’s obvious,” Winnie quips and grimaces. “Sorry. Not that I’m saying it’s—”
“Whoa.” Colt frowns at her. “I mean, that’s cool and all. None of my business. I just—”
“Damn straight,” I growl. “You were about to shut your mouth and help me bag some trash.”
“It’s okay.” She glances at me and hesitates. “You know what, I think I will head inside for a break. It’s pretty hot out here and I’m already burned. Should’ve brought sunscreen.”
“Good idea.” It will get her away from my son, who clearly needs another reminder not to run his mouth. “If you need anything, just give me a shout.”
“Sure thing.” She shades her face with her hand and gives me a small, sad smile that makes my heart twist before she walks through the sliding doors inside.
Goddammit.
I turn on Colt. “What the hell was that?”
“What, I can’t ask?”
“No, you can’t. Worming your way into someone’s private business makes them uncomfortable.”
“She wasn’t that uncomfortable,” he says. “I mean, you’re the only one acting like it’s a big deal. It isn’t, Dad, you’re just another guy. I get it. You guys can answer a question or two without freaking out.”
“I don’t need to answer anything. But for the record, it’s not like you think.”
“Cool, more vagueness.” He snorts and shakes his head. I watch him grab the gardening gloves Winnie left on the ground. “So, what is it like, then?”
“None of your business, for one.” I grab a bulging trash bag and haul it to the gate. I’ll have the maintenance crew pick them up later. “How was brunch with your mom?”
“Awesome! I had eggs Benedict with lobster at that new place. She asked me about summer school and we talked about the bees.” He shrugs. “It was nice to talk to her. She said I should come out west later this year in the fall and she’d take me up to the San Juans or Vancouver Island.”
In other words, a long fucking way from home for my son and his irresponsible mother.
“Mm-hmm,” I grunt, barely biting my tongue.
This is the part I hate.
Being a parent means manning up and moving past the drama so you can co-parent effectively, yes. Only, no one tells you how fucking hard it is.
Or how much you want to shake your kid sometimes because you can’t shake the hell out of your stupid, conniving ex.