Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 71476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
How fucked up is that?
After all of the shit I’ve gone through with Ryan, the last thing I should ever want is Rory pregnant with my child. That doesn’t mean the thought wasn’t there. I shut it down, but the want… I could taste the want and that pissed me off even more. The more she talked, the more I let the anger take over.
Today was fucked up all the way around. Bitterness was churning inside of me so strong that it fucking hurt to breathe. It felt like I was choking on it. I spent an hour sifting through channels on a fucking television that usually was never turned on—except for Ryan’s cartoons. I went outside and fucked around in the garage, but my eyes always strayed to Rory’s house. I never saw a trace of her. I went inside a few hours before I had to get Ryan. I knew the exact moment her car started up. I sat at the table and heard her car pull away.
I didn’t move.
But I felt the lack of her presence around me and that made it even harder to breathe.
I bided my time, and finally I could leave to go get Ryan. I took the long way around, to clear my head. I looked up and saw the red Jeep in my rearview mirror. It’s weird. I hadn’t seen that vehicle in months—and I’m sure I haven’t because I’ve been looking every fucking day. It should be something I dismiss, but it’s not. There’s just something about it, nagging at me, telling me I should pay attention to it. I’ve only ignored my gut a handful of times—all of those times involving women—and I’ve lived to regret it. I reach into the console and grab my gun, bring it to rest against my leg, my hand grasping it with the familiarity of a lover, my finger automatically staying poised over the trigger. I pull over to the side of the road, my body tense and ready for battle.
The vehicle goes around me and the driver doesn’t even look at me as he passes. I slowly let out a breath, but I keep the gun close as I pull back on the road. I don’t catch a glimpse of the vehicle again, and I get disgusted with myself. I’m seeing ghosts where there are none. I push my weapon back in the console right before I get to the school pickup line.
Ryan comes running out with his usual exuberance, rambling on about how his teacher gave him homework.
“You can do your homework early and we’ll watch that new movie we bought after you’re finished, Bub.”
“Cool!” he says, easily satisfied.
“Did you have a good day at school?” I finally ask now that I can get a word in.
“I guess. Pam tried to kiss me at recess.”
“Who’s Pam?”
“She sits next to me in class. She always wears her hair in something she calls pigtails and she’s really tall—even taller than me and I’m the tallest kid in the class…. Well, except for Pam.”
“Did you let her kiss you?” I ask, having had a shit day, but for some reason wanting to smile as I listen to Ryan.
“Ew! No way, Jose! Gross, Dad!”
“She’s not cute?” I ask.
“I guess. I don’t know. Girls are annoying. Plus, her name’s Pam Snails. Like, I don’t want a girl whose name is Snails, Dad. That’s just weird,” he says nodding, looking out the window.
“Well you could just call her Pam,” I suggest, fighting down my laughter.
“Maybe, but she’s not pretty like Kayleigh.”
“Kayleigh’s pretty?” I ask, taking in the information that my son has begun noticing girls.
I’m not exactly sure how I feel about this… but hopefully since Ryan’s just in kindergarten it won’t be a huge problem just yet.
“Oh, for sure. Kayleigh has hair the same color as Rory’s and she’s got freckles!” Ryan says.
I manage to mutter something in response and then Ryan starts talking about a fall festival that the school is having next week and how it’s going to have a haunted house. He makes it abundantly clear that he’s planning on going, and I know I’ll take him—even if I don’t really want to.
What I’m mostly thinking about is that it seems my son and I have the same type.
Rory.
38
Diesel
I can hear her moving around. I close my eyes as a wave of pain moves through me.
Pain.
It feels like molten steel, sliding through me and cutting places I can’t see, but I sure as fuck feel. My hands tighten into fists as I hear her shower turn on. Visions of Rory naked and under the spray of the water dance in my brain and in that moment… I hate her.
I’ve been furious at her, devastated that this is the way she decided to play her game. Women play games, I’ve learned that shit the hard way. But, I feel stupid as fuck that I thought Rory’s games would be harmless.