Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 115619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
“Now, wait just a second.” Dad holds up his hands, his features hardening. “This is a terrible tragedy, and truly, you have my deepest sympathy. I can't imagine what you’re feeling at this moment, but to stand here and imply Bianca was at fault for ending the relationship is cruel and unfair.”
“That's not what we think,” Josh insists.
“Don't speak for me,” Sarah whispers. “He started going downhill after the breakup. He stopped going to work. He was supposed to take over the gym, and he lost interest. Don't tell me it was only a coincidence.”
“Sarah, breakups happen all the time,” Dad reminds her. He's not so gentle anymore. His tone has a firmness, a command I haven't heard in ages. “You're not the first grieving parent to want to lay blame for what happened to their child on someone else. Nevertheless, it's unfair to hold Bianca responsible. Breakups happen.”
“Honey, we should go. I'm… not even sure why we came,” Josh murmurs. “We were just hoping, I don't know, that you could tell us something.”
I can't hold back the tears anymore. They run down my cheeks and clog my throat until all I can do is shake my head at first. “No,” I choke out. “I'm sorry. I really am. I didn't want... I mean, I would never...”
“It’s alright,” Dad whispers, stroking my hair before turning back to them. “I'm sorry, but there is nothing we can do to help. Truly, I wish there was.”
“Can you investigate?” Sarah asks. The hope in that question sends fresh tears rolling down, dripping off my chin faster than I can catch them.
“I’ve taken a leave of absence,” Dad explains. “However, I can make some phone calls. I want to manage your expectations, though. If the ruling was suicide, I'm not sure what else can be done.”
It's just like with Mom. Only this time, I'm the one who knows the truth, and I'm the one trying to gaslight this poor couple into believing the story Romero and Callum came up with. How can I sit here, knowing the truth, knowing what happens when the truth is concealed, and pretend? It would kill Dad if he knew I’m sitting here, watching them suffer, when I know everything. He’d never look at me the same way again.
“Let's go,” Josh whispers to Sarah, stroking her matted brown hair before steering her out the door. He looks back at me one last time while his wife sobs quietly and mouths the words I'm sorry.
Right, because I'm the one who deserves an apology. Because I'm the one who's truly been hurt. What happens if she never gets over this? I’ll carry the guilt of what happened that night on my chest for the rest of my life.
Dad closes, then locks the door behind them before scrubbing his hands through his hair with a sigh. “What a terrible thing to happen. In any case, please don't for one second believe any of this was your fault.”
Nodding, I brush the last of my tears away. “I know. I couldn't control the things he did when we were together, much less...” I can't find the words to finish the sentence.
Never in my life have I wished so much that I could tell the truth. The whole truth, too. Like the way Lucas tried to kill me with his car. The way he kidnapped me and tried to force himself on me. How he fell apart.
And the reason why he did.
“I think I need to go upstairs and lie down for a minute,” I whisper, standing and steadying myself.
“Sure, of course, you do that. I'll clean up the kitchen. And if you need anything, just yell for me.” I nod silently, then climb the stairs slowly. Those poor people. None of this was their fault. They didn't have the first clue what was happening with their son. I am not even sure they could have helped him if they tried.
Once I'm sure Dad is still in the kitchen, making noise as he washes up the pots and pans, I close the bedroom door and pull out my phone. I need support, stability. I need to know everything is going to be okay, even if it feels like it won’t be.
Callum answers on the first ring. “Hey, there.” He sounds happy but tired. It jumps out at me no matter how he tries to hide it.
And here I am, about to heap more steaming shit on him. “We just had a visitor.”
“Explain.” His tone is serious.
A minute later, he knows the whole story, and I’m left breathless and trembling. “What should I do? Do you think they’ll make a big deal about it and try to start an investigation?”
“You have nothing to worry about,” he assures me. “There's no chance of any of it being traced back to you.”