Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 95350 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95350 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
“It’s okay, Kenneth. I’ve got this one. We’ll be upstairs.”
After a slight hesitation, he nodded. “Okay. But let me know when the ass-kicking part is needed.”
“Thanks, Dad, but the only ass that needs to be kicked right now is mine.” I pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before following my mom upstairs to my room.
“Have a seat,” my mom suggested once we entered the room. I almost protested, thinking I’d need to pace, but the past few hours hit me, and I climbed into the mountain of jewel-tone pillows atop my white bed.
“What are you doing?” I asked when my mom went to the closet instead of climbing in beside me. She fell to her knees and shoved clothes aside. “Mom?”
“I’m getting a drink,” she answered as if that was supposed to make sense to me.
“From my closet?”
She fell back on her heels with a sigh, giving me a look that said, don’t judge me. “I like to come in here to relax and hide away sometimes.”
“But you have a sitting room.”
“Yeah, but no one thinks to look in here for me.”
I laughed at her devious smile, watching her dive back into the closet. “Either way, it’s too early for wine.”
“Obviously,” she scoffed before whirling around, clutching a glass bottle full of clear liquid. “I got the vodka.”
“Hah. That’s what got me into this mess.”
“Hey, don’t blame it on the vodka,” Mom joked, joining me in the bed. “You don’t have to have any if you don’t want to, but if we’re talking about your father, I’ll need a drink.”
She produced a glass from the bedside drawer, and it was so absurd, I figured why not join the insanity. “Fuck it. I’ll take a drink.”
“Atta girl.”
She poured two glasses and passed one over. We clinked our drinks together and tossed them back. I tried to hand my glass back to her, but she just refilled it.
“This one is for sipping,” she explained. Setting the bottle aside, she leaned back and released a heavy sigh. “So, what do you want to know.”
“Everything.”
“Rae, I thought we covered this,” she said slowly. “Babies are made when a man and wo—”
“Mom! Gross.” I shoved her shoulder with mine and laughed. In the chaos of pain consuming so much space inside me, I found a small piece of gratitude. How lucky was I to have parents who knew exactly what to do to make me laugh even in the worst of times?
Our laughter faded out, and we took matching sips from our glass before returning to stare up at the ceiling, lost in thought. Her bracing for impact, and me trying to figure out where to start.
“How did it happen?” I finally asked, shifting my head against the pillow to study her profile.
“Which part?”
“How did you—a woman so strong—end up married to a man like him?”
Her lips pinched as she thought. “He wasn’t always that way.”
“I know. You’ve told me that before, but what does it mean? You always stop after that, and I don’t get it. Did he just change? I mean, how am I supposed to trust anyone when I’m always worried that they’ll end up like him in the long run? How do I…How do I love someone?” I finished quietly. I hadn’t even realized that was a question I’d wanted to ask until it came spilling out.
She jerked her matching dark brown gaze to mine, concern and understanding swirling in their depths. “Oh, Raelynn. I’m sorry I never talked about it before. I wanted to protect you from dealing with more than you already had. I never meant to cause you to be scared of letting someone in.”
“I’m not sc—” The lie sat on the tip of my tongue. I almost said it, but this was Mom, and I needed a moment of honesty if I wanted to fix anything. So instead of saying anything, I just shrugged.
“I wasn’t always so strong,” she explained sadly, brushing a strand of hair from my shoulder. “When I met your father, we were in the last few months of college. He was handsome and endearing, with a personality that sucked you in. I came from a modest upbringing, and it was so easy to become enraptured by him. So much so that I blotted out any signs that something darker lurked under the surface. When he lost his temper because some guy stared at me too long? I thought it was romantic because he was jealous and wanted me so much. When he didn’t want me to go home so I could stay with him? It was romantic that he couldn’t stand to be away from me for a second. When he lost his temper? He explained it was because I made him feel so much passion like he never had before. I was special whereas before I was plain.”