Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 69775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
I had.
I mean, if anyone could do something so evil, it would be her.
However, that wasn’t where her evil had stopped.
My mother’s evil had been leaps and bounds worse than her interference into my life—though that didn’t stop me from hating her for what she’d done to Nettie and me. When Dad and I had started digging into her life, we’d been appalled by what we’d found.
My mother’s depravity went back years.
Stalking. Scamming. Fraud.
And my father was her longest fraud yet.
It’d all started when they’d first met.
It hadn’t been by happenstance. It’d all been planned out to the T. But back then, it hadn’t been just my mother in on it, but my grandmother and my aunt as well. It’d been multiple generations of fraudsters. Killed husbands—and I do mean husbands, plural. Stolen heirlooms. Fake marriages.
“Call her,” Dad suggested. “Get her up here. We’ll explain together.”
I scrubbed my hand down my face. “I…”
He picked up his phone and dialed a number.
“Yeah?”
Denver, the president of the Dixie Wardens MC, answered the phone gruffly, sounding like we’d pulled him from sleep.
“You have a minute?”
Denver was my dad’s younger brother. There was a twenty-five-year age gap between them. Denver and I were closer in age than Dad and Denver were.
He yawned. “Sure. Where are you? The office?”
“Yep,” he confirmed. “Would you mind stopping by Weaver and Eddy’s place and picking up Nettie?”
“Last I heard, Nettie wasn’t in town.” We could hear Denver moving in the background, opening and closing drawers.
“Oh, she’s here. Boone’s in my office right now.”
Denver sighed. “Shit.”
Then he hung up.
Almost as soon as Denver hung up, my own phone rang.
I glanced down at the screen and growled.
“Your mother, I’m assuming by the look on your face,” Dad guessed correctly.
“Yep.” I hit Answer, then put it on speaker. “Yes?”
“Is that any way to speak to your mother?”
I couldn’t stand the sound of her voice.
I couldn’t stand the way that she made me want to turn into a raving murderer, either.
I said nothing, and my mother sighed. “You’re so difficult. Just like your stepfather.”
She liked to point out that my stepfather wasn’t my actual father.
Though, he was in every way but one.
Biologically, he wasn’t mine, sure.
But he was there when I started walking. He was there when I threw my first pitch. He was there when I walked at graduation. He was there when I walked during my college graduation. He was there on opening day of my practice. He was there when I’d lost first my child, then Nettie.
He was there for everything.
Genes didn’t make you family, and Sawyer and I were living proof of that.
“How can I help you, Mother?”
I’d never called her “mom” in my life.
I should’ve seen the writing on the wall when I’d called her “mom” once in first grade and she’d berated me in front of my entire class.
“I feel like all you ever do is rush me off the phone.” She sniffed. “Can’t a mother ever call her son just to talk?”
Sure. Just not my mother. And not this son.
“What is it that I can help you with?” I asked. “I have a busy schedule ahead of me today.”
If there was anything my mom could respect, it was a busy schedule.
She, of course, had a busy one herself.
Some country club meet and greet likely set in between social engagements or photo opportunities.
“Are you being a doctor today, or that outdoor enthusiast?” she huffed.
I gritted my teeth.
A year and a half ago, when we’d gotten another veterinarian on staff, I’d finally got to start doing what I loved.
It’d always been my dream to become a park ranger.
It was also part-time—only two days a week.
However, I freakin’ loved it, and I got to do what I wanted to do for twelve hours a day, two days a week.
If I couldn’t be with who I loved, I sure the hell could be doing what I loved.
“Does it matter?” I asked, clearly impatient with her.
Which she picked up on.
Shocker.
“Since you’re in such a rush to get rid of me, I thought I’d tell you that your sister’s pregnant, and having a girl.”
Silence.
Even from my father.
I glanced up at him to see him narrowing his eyes hard.
Why wouldn’t my mother—or my sister for that matter—share this information with my dad?
They had a semi-good relationship, even if Felicia and I did not.
“Is that right?” I asked, clearly bored with her line of conversation.
“I know you and your sister aren’t getting along at the moment.” Understatement of the year from my mother. “But I think you’ll like knowing that she’s honoring you in this way.”
I instantly got suspicious. “How?”
“She’s naming her daughter Julep.”
My entire being went tight like a live wire.
I rubbed at the tattoo on my chest, right over my heart.
There were two names there for the two beings that held a piece of my heart.