Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 126580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
“You paid?”
“I paid. I did everything. She needed intensive long-term therapy, and it’s not done. She’s not done. She has daily group therapy, and she sees a counselor three times a week. She’s also going to do community service. I believe she’s volunteering at a local animal shelter.”
I had no idea how to process any of this. I turned to my mom, who had frozen in place too. She shrugged, holding up a hand. “I thought you knew.”
“An animal shelter?”
“I loved animals. You remember when we had that dog when you were little?”
“Barnabee.”
“Yeah. Such an idiot. Not a clue his breed, but didn’t matter. He was the best thing that we got in this house. Besides you kids, of course.”
“He took off one night. I never knew why.”
“He didn’t take off. I gave him away.”
“What? Why?” How many more punches could I take today?
“Your dad would’ve killed him. Always threatening. Didn’t like how you took to him, how I took to him. Even Isaac loved him. Your dad wasn’t one to believe someone or something else was getting more love than him. I found him a good home so you’d not grow up knowing your dad killed him.”
I was rocked by all of this. “What family?”
“He passed a few years ago, but we can go over there. They send me Christmas cards every year. I’ll show you the pictures they sent of him. They have three kids. The little girl had bad depression, and Barnabee helped her a lot—that’s what they shared with me. Seems right judging by the photos. He’s half on the girl’s lap in every one of them.”
A choked sob ripped from me.
I couldn’t begin to comprehend any of this.
“I have to go. I need to do . . .” something. Anything. I needed to not be here. “I don’t know. I just can’t be here right now.” I shoved forward, but Trace reached for me.
“Hey.” He stopped me, his hand resting on my hip.
My skin burned where he was touching me. I didn’t want to be touched right now, but that wasn’t the truth. I did. I needed it, but I didn’t feel worthy of being touched. It was a hard pill to swallow, but I fought it, taking his touch.
I soaked it in, needing it, and I touched him back, resting against him.
“Hey. Hey.” My mom came forward, her voice insistent. “Listen to me. Okay? Just listen.”
I turned, slowly.
Now she looked how I felt moments ago. Uneasy. On edge. Cautious.
A twinge of desperation lined her voice too. “Listen. I thought you knew about your man helping me. I did.”
“I asked to come see you. I wanted to be there for you. You blocked me from the visitor list.”
“I know.” She grimaced, her face twisting up. “I was going through a lot. The therapy dredges up everything. I didn’t want you coming and seeing me going through that because I didn’t want to do more damage. I know how I am, how I can be. I wasn’t handling everything the right way, you know, where I take accountability. It’s easy for me to lash out, especially at you, but I’m wrong to do that. I needed to go through everything and get a grip on myself before seeing you. I just didn’t want to hurt you anymore. I’ve already done so much to you. I’m sorry, Jessie. I am.” More tears were sliding down her face, but her voice was strong. “I’m happy you’re here, and please don’t leave. Please. Stay. I . . . I got a lot of years to make up to you. Let me start by, I don’t know. Making new tea? How about that? I’ll make you that chai stuff you like.”
It was so ludicrous that I barked out a laugh. “I hated chai tea. Isaac liked that stuff.”
“What? He did? You didn’t?”
“I didn’t. Never. I like the sweet tea you always make, but not chai tea.”
“Oh. I never knew that.”
Oh, good Lord. And I was actually talking to Him. Some of the tension eased from me, like a leaky toilet bowl. It was messy. So much crap had happened inside it, but it was slowly emptying out. Such a waste in some ways too.
“You’ll stay? This tea you have is good. I can work with it, make it like the sweet stuff.”
“Okay.”
“You’ll stay then?”
I nodded. “I’ll stay.”
Her smile was blinding.
I didn’t know this woman. I don’t think I ever met her in my life. But I shared a look with Trace and went to sit at the table while she busied herself in the kitchen.
I think I wanted to get to know her.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE
TRACE
Ashton: I know you’re still enraged with me, but you need to call me. We got movement happening and I’m not totally sure what it all is.
I got that text and eased out of the living room. Jess and her mother had cooked a meal together. There’d been a good conversation over the dinner table, and now both were on the couches. A movie was on the television. Each had a blanket over her lap and a bowl of popcorn in hand. Plus, sweet tea. Lots of sweet tea being drunk between the two of them.