Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 107166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
I think my tattoo is his favorite part about me, and as much as I like to touch it to calm myself, Tobias might like to do it even more than I do.
“I wish I had an answer for you. I wish I knew what to say. The thing is, as much as you don’t want to hear this, you don’t have much time with him. I don’t think you should waste the moments you have fighting. So maybe don’t tell him you know and wait for him to come to you. How about you just ask him about me? Ask him where he got the information.”
“Okay, so you don’t think I should tell him I know he’s sick?”
“No. Skye. You can’t, and not just because you violated a lot of laws to do it. Which is technically a problem since you’re a lawyer but mainly because he’s gotta tell you. You know that, right?”
“I do.”
“Just be calm. Remember, if he hasn’t told you, it’s because he’s not ready for you to know you’re losing him. Maybe he doesn’t want it to be real.”
“Yeah,” I groan. “I know you’re right. But I feel like I don’t know him at all.”
Tobias drops my hand, and I almost protest, but then he’s wrapping his arm around me and tucking me into his chest. My favorite place to be. The only place I feel completely safe. The only place I feel completely at home.
“He’s the man who raised you. The man who loved you.” I nod against him, my nose tickling from the tears lodged in my eyes that I refuse to shed. I stay curled up in his arms for a few more minutes, soaking in the strength he gives me. Then when I feel I can, I reach for my cell phone.
Before I can think twice, I dial.
It takes a few seconds for him to answer, but then he does.
“Skye?” His voice sounds older and even more tired than the last time, if that’s even possible.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Hey, sweet girl. How are you? I’ve missed you.” Hearing him say that, I almost want to abandon this whole plan. I don’t want to upset him. Tobias is right. We might not have that much more time.
“I’m sorry I haven’t visited in a few weeks, Dad.”
“Too busy running the city.” His chuckle warms my heart. I will cherish that sound.
I try not to let my voice crack. “Hardly.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. You’re incredible.”
My heart aches as unshed tears pool. Tobias must know it, too, because his lips touch my forehead.
“Dad—”
“Yeah.”
“I’ve been thinking . . .” I stop, trying to decide how best to broach the topic.
“Never a good pastime.”
“I know. I know. Damn brain.” I laugh. “But recently, I’ve been thinking a lot about my life. About my past.”
“My dear, sweet girl.” It’s almost said as a warning, and I know he wants to change the topic. Been there done this conversation, I know the next line already, “Leave the past where it is.”
“No, Dad, please. I need to say this.”
“Okay.” He sounds hesitant. Maybe even nervous.
“I know you told me that boy died,” I mutter, not making any sense.
“What boy?”
“You know what boy,” I say, harder than I mean to. How can he forget or be confused? There has only ever been one boy.
From where I’m sitting in Tobias’s arms, I can feel his body tense. It no longer feels like I’m cradled into a warm chest. Now it feels like rocks are my backrest. This isn’t just about me.
I move into him, wrapping my free arm around his torso. I’m not sure how I’ll be able to talk with my head in his neck, but I can’t let him go right now.
“The boy in the storage closet with me.”
“Oh.”
I take a deep breath and will myself to calm down and not yell at him.
“How did you know he died?”
“That was a long time ago—” I know what he is going to say. He’s going to try to change the subject, but I’m not going to let him.
“Dad.” My tone is a warning.
He lets out a deep breath, followed by a rattly cough.
Stay the course, Skye.
“You kept asking about him, but the thing was, I couldn’t find anything on him after he went to the hospital. It was the strangest thing. It was like his presence disappeared.”
“And that was enough for you to tell me he was dead?”
“It was so long ago I can’t remember.”
“Please, think,” I practically beg.
He’s silent for a minute, then he coughs again. “I asked around. I even called the DA.”
“And . . . ?”
“Eventually, I was told that the boy had gone missing and that he was most likely dead. The hit was for his father . . . so everyone assumed they got to him, too.”
“And you didn’t look into it?”