Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 155900 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 780(@200wpm)___ 624(@250wpm)___ 520(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 155900 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 780(@200wpm)___ 624(@250wpm)___ 520(@300wpm)
She emphasized the last by jamming her index finger toward the ground.
Little Warrior fighting for what she believed was right.
“So, if there is any kind of compassion inside you? Any goodness at all? Then you forget I came here.”
Swiping the back of her hand under her nose, she turned and left me gaping behind her.
Her words stakes that pierced through me, pinning me to the ground.
She was right.
She was right.
I led no sort of life that would benefit a child.
I was a monster. Prone to brutality. Devolving into it without guilt or a second thought.
And still, as I watched her go, it felt like she was ripping my soul out of me.
ELEVEN
KANE
Five Years Old
A cool breeze whooshed across Kane’s face, and he pumped his feet so hard.
“Higher!” he shouted, and his tummy felt fuzzy and full when he heard his mommy’s tinkling laughter from behind.
“If I push you any higher, you’re going to end up flying all the way into the sky.”
“That’s ’cause I’m an airplane!” He made a jet noise as his mommy gave him another push and sent him sailing right back for the blue, blue sky.
The sun felt warm, and his smile was really big.
“What kind of airplane?” she asked.
“The super-fast jet kind!”
“Wow, are you sure you want to go that fast and high?”
“Well, I can’t let Billy beat me. He’s always racin’ me and trying to win. And you know I gotta get a perfect ten.”
His mommy’s laughter was soft. But he thought everything about her was soft. Her face and her cheeks and the way she whispered when she read him a story at night.
“You’re already my perfect ten.”
Kane felt like his whole body glowed.
“Okay,” she said, “I need to stop being jet fuel and water these plants. We have company coming for dinner.”
“I’ll help!” He dragged the tips of his shoes into the ground as he swung back and forth, slowing himself as his mommy grabbed the chains to slow him down. He hopped off, clapping his hands in the air as he went racing for the hose.
He turned the faucet on high then dragged it to where he knew his mommy loved to work.
The big row of rose bushes that grew up tall along the side wall of their backyard.
The same as his mommy’s name, which was why they were her favorite.
They were so many different colors.
Red and white. Yellow and pink.
“Here you go, Mommy!”
She ran a tender hand through his hair. “You are a big help, aren’t you?”
He puffed out his chest. “I gotta be the man of the house.”
Least, that’s what his grampa told him because he didn’t have a dad.
Warm laughter floated out of her. “I think you should just focus on being my favorite little boy.”
His puffed up chest expanded farther, pressing full and wide.
“You’re definitely my favorite mommy. No doubt about it.”
Her pretty eyes sparkled and danced.
Bright green with a lot of gold, the same color as his. He was pretty sure it meant they were rich.
He tugged the end of the hose so the water was gushing out under the bushes to get them wet. “And your other favorite is your roses, right, Mommy?” he asked as he stood, his mouth a real big grin.
She touched his chin with her knuckle. “My second favorite because nothing compares to you, but I do love them. Tending to them. Growing them. It reminds me of being a mommy. Because you have to take good care of the things you love most.”
“Then that means I gotta take the best care of you.” He took her hand to prove it.
They finished watering the roses and cuttin’ off the dead buds and then his mommy said they had to make dinner. She brought a whole bouquet of them and set them up in the middle of the table for their special guest.
Because his mommy had a new friend.
TWELVE
KANE
Dance music drummed in Kane’s, the heavy bass beat vibrating the floors and trembling the walls. Pulsing so deep I could almost see the strains distort the air.
I was in my office in the far back of the old building, sitting at my enormous mahogany desk and staring down at the tumbler full of scotch. Unable to stomach actually drinking it, but somehow, having my hand wrapped around the glass provided some sort of placebo effect.
Numbness coming on all while I could feel myself fraying apart at the edges.
Unable to stop seeing the image of that little girl that had been imprinted in my mind. A brand-new tattoo that had been marked on my soul.
All while I toiled with the parting words Emery had given.
A clear-cut statement that she wanted me to stay out of the little girl’s life.
Maci.
Maci, Maci, Maci.
Her name spun around me like a dream.
A daze that dragged me into confusion.
Which of course, then led to another.