Total pages in book: 197
Estimated words: 199143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 996(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 199143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 996(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
It was all interchangeable, he was learning.
Maybe he shouldn’t have given her such a hard time about getting up. And maybe ... just maybe ... he had been giving his mother a hard time ever since his dad got taken away. It wasn’t really that John meant to do that to his ma, but ... everything sucked.
He missed his dad.
All the time.
“It is,” his ma said. “Do you want to talk to him?”
John’s father must have said something to his ma, because Jordyn said into the phone, “It’s all right, we have tomorrow.”
She handed the phone over, and John didn’t hesitate to snatch it from her grasp. As soon as he had the phone in his hand, he darted back into the safe darkness of his room. Before he could shut the door, though, he heard his mother call something else after him.
“Make sure you’re dressed before you hang up that phone, John.”
“Got it, Ma,” he called back.
Then, he let his door slam.
John put the phone to his ear, but he didn’t move to the dresser or the large closet that was practically another small room to get dressed. Instead, he pressed his back to the door, and put the phone to his ear. He swore his father must have heard him breathing because no sooner had he done that, then his father started talking.
“I miss you, my boy,” Lucian said.
John frowned. “Miss you, too, Papa.”
“You’re being good for your mother, right?”
He didn’t want to lie.
He didn’t want his dad to be pissed, either.
“Kind of,” John settled on saying.
“You gotta be good for her, John,” Lucian said. “She’s all alone right now, and trying to deal with all of you on her own. So, give her a little bit of a break, huh? Be good to your sisters, and eat your fucking vegetables. Whatever it takes. She wants you to do something you don’t want to do, then you just do it and give her a damn smile. And do you know why you do that?”
John sniffed a bit. “No.”
“Because you’re her son—her only son, John. She’s not ever going to have another, and certainly not one like you. You were the first baby she ever got to hold, and love. Do you think she wants that boy of hers to give her trouble all the damn time?”
“Probably not.”
“Exactly. Be good for her, all right?”
“All right,” John mumbled.
“I’m sorry,” his father added after a moment.
“For what?”
“Being here, I guess. In here, and not there. First Christmas without me, and I bet you’re feeling it, too.”
To say the least ... John didn’t say that out loud. He didn’t want to hurt his father, either.
“I know you’re having a hard time with all of this, John,” Lucian added. “With me not being home, I mean.”
“A little,” John agreed.
“But I will be soon.”
“Not soon enough,” he mumbled.
Lucian chuckled. “Yeah, it’s never going to be soon enough, I know.”
“Miss you, Papa.”
He’d already told him that. He figured he should say it again.
“Love you, my boy,” Lucian countered.
John smiled. “Yeah, that, too. I guess.”
Lucian scoffed. “You wound me, son.”
“Only a little, though.”
“And don’t you ever change, either.”
Never.
For Love
“Daddy?”
“Hmm, yes?”
Lucian glanced down to find his six-year-old, Lucia, grinning up at him in that sweet way of hers. A way that reminded him so much of her mother. More than she, or even Jordyn, would ever know. Sure, Lucia looked a lot like him, too, and she was his namesake until the very end. He made sure of that. She took his eye color, her hair was all him, too—damn, he was sorry for those unruly curls—and even some of her attitude was definitely right from his own mouth.
But her sweet nature?
All that kindness?
Every part of her that was good?
It all came from Jordyn.
And thank God for that.
“Nothin’,” Lucia said, still smiling that toothy, girlish smile of hers. “Just wanted to say I love you.”
His hand tightened around hers as they continued walking down the Manhattan street. Him in his three-piece suit, and her in her pretty pink dress and stark white shoes with the very small heel. She had to have shoes like her ma, after all.
Someday, she was going to stop letting him hold her hand or even picking her up to carry her across a busy street. Someday, she’d stop looking up at him just to tell him that she loved him at the most random of times.
Someday, she would be older.
Different.
He’d miss these days. And God knew he made lots of time to have these days with each of his four children. A day once a week that was spent just on them. Maybe it was an evening—a movie on the weekend, or even lunch at their favorite place. It didn’t matter. As long as he was spending quality time with one of his kids, that’s what counted.