Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 100853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Later, I carried her to the shower. Neither of us was surprised when the water steamed on demand. Since the day we’d found our parents’ grave, we hadn’t had a single problem with the plumbing or the electrical in the guest wing. No one thought it was a coincidence.
We emerged from Paige’s room to find the leftovers of breakfast still laid out in the dining room. Finn always did a buffet in the mornings during the holidays. I didn’t mind getting the scraps. Finn’s overwarmed eggs and cooled biscuits were a hell of a lot better than anything I could have made myself.
“Are you going to talk to Griffen after breakfast?” Paige asked over coffee.
“That’s the plan,” I said.
“Come find me after. I’m doing a project with the kids in the kitchen.”
“I will,” I said. I pushed my chair back, nerves twisting in my gut.
“It’s a great idea, Ford,” she said.
I nodded, my throat tight with a combination of love and gratitude that stole my voice. I hadn’t thought I deserved anything after the way I’d spent most of my life, and to have this woman look at me like that, glowing with feeling for me—it was more than I deserved. I’d make sure she never regretted it, not for a moment.
I knocked on Griffen’s office door, pushing it open at his brisk, “Yep?”
“Ford,” Hope said, surprise on her face as she noticed the file folder in my hand. She glanced at Griffen, eyebrows raised.
“Is now good?” I asked. Griffen had said they didn’t have anything on the schedule, but I knew how quickly things could change.
“Yeah, come in.” He looked at his wife. “I meant to tell you Ford was stopping by this morning,” he said to Hope, “but then I got—” He paused, and something in his look had Hope’s cheeks flushing. “Distracted,” he finished.
I didn’t bother to hide my grin.
“Oh,” Hope said. She cleared her throat and looked to me, giving me a bright, professional smile that belied the very personal blush on her cheeks. “What’s up? Is this a business meeting or a family thing?”
“It’s both, actually,” I said. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about what’s next.”
“The last time we talked about this,” Griffen said, “you were determined to find out who killed Dad.”
I sat back, crossed my ankle on my knee. “I was.”
“And you did,” Griffen said. “I can’t say I saw that coming.”
I shook my head. “Me either. All these years Harvey was pining for our mother, and then…”
“And you’re really not mad?” Griffen asked, his eyes narrowing on my face. “You spent a year in prison.”
“I know,” I said. “Believe me, I know.” There were nights when I still couldn’t shake the memories—the loneliness, the heat. But the nightmares would fade, and I was here. In my home. With my family. With Paige. Prison felt very far away.
As a family, we’d talked about Harvey killing Prentice—minus West—and had agreed to keep what we knew to ourselves. None of us wanted to see Harvey in prison. West knew we were keeping something from him, but so far, he seemed content to let it go. I suspected Avery had played a part in that. But I hadn’t talked about it with Griffen.
“Here’s the thing,” I said, “he lied. And I went to prison for it. And yeah, that was miserable. But if he turns himself in to West for shooting Dad, he’ll be locked up for the rest of his life. I don’t want that. And knowing Harvey, the guilt he’s feeling is worse than anything the legal system can do to him.” I looked at Griffen. “Do you want Harvey to go to prison?”
He closed his eyes and sat back, thinking for a long moment. Hope reached out to take his hand, squeezing hard. Griffen was usually more compassionate than me, but it seemed like in this one case, he was having a hard time letting go. He squeezed Hope’s hand and opened his eyes.
“No,” he said. “You make a good point. Part of me wants him to bear some responsibility for what he put you through, but not if that means he spends the rest of his life in prison. I can understand why he snapped. I feel like I can see the whole scene in my head. Prentice laughing, admitting he’d murdered the woman Harvey loved—our mother—like it was a joke.”
I could picture it, too. All too easily.
“I’m glad Harvey did it,” I admitted. “Maybe that makes me a terrible person, but I don’t care. I’m glad he shot Prentice. It doesn’t bring our mother back, but it’s some kind of justice.”
Griffen met my eyes in perfect accord. “I agree.”
“Well,” Hope said into the heavy moment, “I uninvited Harvey and Edgar from Christmas.”
“You uninvited Uncle Edgar from Christmas?” Griffen asked slowly. Hope had learned how to set boundaries with her uncle, but he was still her only family, and I knew she’d never turn her back on him.