Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
“It could be a start,” he forced out.
“It’s a start I’d like.” His father’s hand tightened weakly on his. “If you’d like that, too.”
“I…I think I would.” If we even have that kind of time. The frailty of that hand in his own drove home how unlikely that was. Ash took a hitching breath, looking down at his father’s hand, tracing his thumb over knuckles turned into sharp, bony spikes. He smiled weakly. “I don’t resent you, Dad. I really don’t. It’s…not like we were ever that far apart. You’re just…more like that awkward uncle I see on holidays or something.” He laughed under his breath. “And Mom’s that awkward aunt.”
“Better than being that asshole who shipped you off to boarding school and forgot you.”
“I stopped calling you that before I spent four years fucking my way through college on your dime.”
His father laughed, sharp and startled—then broke into raw, rough coughs, doubling forward, his hand tightening convulsively on Ash’s until the finger-points of his bones dug into Ash’s knuckles painfully. Panic laced through Ash, binding him tight in its coils, and he leaned forward, reaching helplessly.
“Oh—oh fuck, are you okay?”
Calvin Harrington held up his free hand to forestall him. He hacked a few more times, then rasped, “I’m fine. I’m fine.” He pressed his hand to his chest, then took a few more deep breaths. “Just need to rest, that’s all.”
Ash sank back into his chair, then realized just how tight he was holding his father’s hand and eased his grip with an apologetic wince. “Are you sure? Can I get anything for you?”
“If I let you, your mother would be mortally offended.” His father smiled faintly. “It’s fine, son. And I think I’m keeping you from work.” He flicked his gaze over Ash. “You wear that suit well.”
“I feel like a little boy in Daddy’s clothes. I think I need a few more years to grow into it.”
“I think you wear it just fine your own way.”
Ash searched his father’s face, realization sinking in with a heavy and somber weight. “…you’re never coming back to Harrington Steel, are you.”
“No, son,” Calvin Harrington said regretfully. “I’m sorry to throw this at you without preparing you…but it’s yours, now. I…do you hate me for that?”
“No.” Ash dragged a smile up from somewhere and patted his father’s hand, cradling it in both of his own. “I’ve always known it would be mine one day. I’ve always accepted that, I…I even wanted it one day, when I was ready. I just wasn’t expecting to have to be ready so soon.”
“Life never goes according to plan.” His father’s tight grip loosened—then slipped away, fingers slipping from between Ash’s. “Go, son. That valet of yours is waiting for you, no doubt.”
The thought of Brand made a faint flush heat beneath Ash’s collar. He almost wanted to ask…but…fuck, they didn’t really have that kind of relationship, did they? Where he could say hey Dad my valet kissed me and let me sleep in his bed and held me while I cried, and I get kind of funny feelings when he does certain things.
Yeah. No.
Hard pass on that conversation.
So he only shrugged, pushing himself to his feet. “I’d better go before he has an aneurysm. He’s a fucking drill sergeant.”
“I’m sure he is.” Calvin Harrington chuckled, then trailed off, eyeing Ash thoughtfully. “You know you can tell me anything, don’t you, son?”
“Like you told me about having bone cancer?”
It fell off Ash’s tongue without thinking, and he flinched as if he’d cut himself with the barbed edges. Fuck. Fuck, he hadn’t meant—
His father’s face crumpled, then smoothed as he gathered himself with that classic Calvin Harrington dignity. “…fair. I deserved that.”
“No, you didn’t.” Ash dragged his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry. I just…”
“If there was anything you could have done, I’d have told you. When there was nothing…why burden you with it?” The sound of defeat in his father’s voice was crushing. “I’ve tried so many treatments. I tried. I fought. I didn’t just lie down and give up, son.” He made a bitter sound. “But sometimes you fight with everything in you, and you still lose.”
“What about a bone marrow transplant?” Ash pleaded.
“From who?” his father countered. “It has to be a sibling or an exact match. I’m an only child.”
“But I—”
“Likely wouldn’t be a match, son.” Calvin Harrington cut him off. “I wouldn’t put you through that kind of pain to even ask.”
“But Dad—”
“Ash.” His mother’s voice cut him off from behind, yanking him up short enough to choke the breath from him. “Let him rest.”
Ash stared helplessly between his parents. These strangers, standing there making decisions over his head, asking him to be an adult and yet refusing to treat him like one while they just…just…
Gave up, without even letting him try.
He couldn’t stay in here. He pressed his lips together, then turned away—not even looking at his father again, when he couldn’t. Couldn’t stand the entreaty in his eyes, or the pull on Ash’s heart when no man who was nearly a stranger had the right to make him hurt this much.