Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 74487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
He sets down the plastic cup, moving the tray carefully aside, and glances up briefly, then stares. Puzzlement hits first, and then a crumble of composure, his body straining as he reaches out to me with trembling hands. I hurry forward, his hands fumbling over my shoulders, gripping me tightly, his watery eyes locking on mine. “Candace,” he whispers. “Oh, Candace.”
He holds me with a fierceness that alarms me, his need so great, a man who has been neglected too long. A sob catches me off guard, ugly in its wail, and it takes a moment for me to realize that it comes from myself. I am suddenly wracked with too many emotions, guilt dominant, squashing all of the rest in its fight to the front.
My father, who had been so strong on our phone calls—so light-hearted and nonchalant.
“Sweetie, I’m fine.”
“Don’t worry about me, I’ll fight this.”
“The ladies at the hospital have been spoiling me rotten.”
No one in this hospital is spoiling him. I’d be shocked if any of them even know his name.
His fingers tighten, gripping me as if I am his lifeline. Maybe I am. I am his only child, a child who had abandoned him in his time of need. I’ve been four short hours away, lying to my father, inventing a life that didn’t exist so that I could excuse my lack of visitation. Ashamed of my job, ashamed of my life, my selfishness had left him to fight a lonely battle.
In this horrible moment, when I realize all the ways I’ve failed him, I know I’ve made the right decision. I will sign my soul to the devil if it means that I can, in some way, right my shortcomings as a daughter. He is my father, and, right here in his hospital room, I vow to become more worthy of his love.
NATHAN
The last woman he gave his heart to still has it. Sometimes he wonders if she ever looks at it, tends to it, nurtures it. Knowing Cecile, she probably just jabs it every once in a while, strictly for the hell of it.
* * *
Today, he felt her jab. He stood there, staring at a beautiful woman, and felt the painful poke of her memory. When Candace smiled, he saw Cecile’s grin. When she ran a hand through her hair, he saw blond locks instead of brunette.
* * *
Maybe that’s why he did what he did. Maybe that’s why he pulled Candy from her spot at the kitchen sink, and bent her over the island. Maybe, had Cecile not been so present, he would have been gentler. Maybe he wouldn’t have drilled into Candy without pause, pulled her against him without apology, fucked her without care.
* * *
Not that either of them seemed to mind. She came twice, her shrieks so loud they brought Drew out from his room, his eyes darkening at the sight, his retreat as quick as his entrance. And the orgasm… he stretches out his legs, his cock thickening at just the thought of it. His orgasm had wiped any thoughts of Cecile right out of his head. His orgasm had blinded his self-control, had destroyed his sanity, and left him kissing her mouth, her neck, her breasts. His orgasm had rendered him a passionate fool.
* * *
That’s the beauty of sex. It can fuck up your world and then repair it all. Destroy your heart and then build you a new one. Turn you from heartbroken to love-struck in a hundred delicious thrusts.
* * *
Not that this was love. It couldn’t be, and it wouldn’t be. Not when Cecile still owned his heart.
CHAPTER 15
Dad’s condition hasn’t improved, but his setting certainly has. He’s now an hour outside of Nashville, in a manicured resort called Crestridge. His private, corner room has windows that open to a bloom-filled garden. I grip his hand, grateful to feel a response, a tightening of his fingers around mine. “Hey beautiful,” he whispers.
* * *
My eyes flit from his weak face to the monitor beside him.
* * *
“Hey Daddy. How’s your day going?”
* * *
“You know me. Just fighting off the ladies.” He smiles at me, the motion breaking my heart in its lighthearted attempt.
* * *
“So I’ve heard. Janice at the front desk is positively glowing about you. Try to let her down easily.”
* * *
He laughs, a loose sound that turns into a cough, his grip tightening as his body tenses. I hold my frown at bay, patting his hand gently. “I’m working on a new crossword puzzle. I’m stuck on a few. Think you could help me out?”
* * *
He nods, releasing my hand and gesturing for me to continue. I grin, reaching into my bag and pulling out a worn book, the second we are working through. Our first book was one for beginners, the clues ridiculously easy. This one is for intermediate puzzlers, and we are moving through it at a much slower pace. I can’t pick up the book without fearing that we will never finish it. It, like everything else in my visits, is a bittersweet reminder of the time I have wasted, and how little we have left.