Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 103141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
And when I go to talk to the other surgeons at the clinic, telling them I need extended time off for personal reasons, they’re all surprised, but to them, I’m just a colleague—a man they work with and don’t need in their lives outside of that.
When I get back home, my neighbor, Dominique, is working in her garden. She gives me a wide smile and a wave. “How’s it going, Dr. Abbott? Your car break down?”
I chuckle. “I got rid of it before I went out of town,” I say. “I’m getting a new one.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize you were gone. I hope you went somewhere fun.”
A sharp pang lands in my chest. It has no business being there. It’s not as if Dominique and I are close. Why should she have noticed I was gone? But it’s just a reminder that I don’t have anyone in my life that cares about me really, and that even though my time with Rian changed everything…nothing changed at the same time, and I’m still utterly alone.
*
I’m home less than twenty-four hours when my home phone rings. I’ve been meaning to have it turned off for years, but haven’t taken the time to do it. Still, it rings so infrequently that the sound almost startles me.
“Hello?” I answer, heart racing in a way it shouldn’t due to a phone call. If it was Rian, he would use the burner that I haven’t let out of my sight.
“Preston, it’s your father. I just…called to see how you are.”
I frown. He called to see how I am? This is the man who couldn’t even be bothered to message me himself on my birthday. I had to call him. He had no idea I was even gone. How long would it have taken for someone to realize I was missing? And would that person have been my dad? Probably not.
“I’m fine.”
“I heard you took a leave of absence from work. Is there something I need to know about?”
His question lights fire to my already short fuse where he is concerned. “Why the fuck would you need to know anything about me? You don’t give a shit about me! You have no business asking about anything in my life.” You didn’t even realize I was gone. She would have known, and she would have cared.
“Whether you like it or not, I’m your father.”
“Prove it,” I say. “You have never once cared about being a father to me, and I have no idea why you’re pretending to care now.”
Without another word, I hang up. I have no idea what that was about, why he’s suddenly calling me the day after I get home. All I know is, I want nothing to do with him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Rian
“Are we going to talk about the fact that the doctor is still alive?” Conan asks, leaning against the arm of the couch in my living room. Honestly, I’m surprised he’s given me twenty-four hours before bringing it up.
He has every right to be upset. I would be irate with him if the situation were reversed…and the doctor would probably have already been dead. It is my job to protect this family, after all, but then, why didn’t I do that with Abbott?
“You saw him?” I ask, teeth gritting, hands opening and closing again into tight fists. Conan didn’t hurt him. I would have known if he had, and we wouldn’t be standing here having this conversation right now, but the fury filling me is almost too much to contain.
He saw him, and I didn’t.
My closest friend wants to kill the man I…well, I don’t know what I feel when it comes to Abbott, but I do know he’s mine, and it’s my instinct to protect what belongs to me.
“No. I haven’t seen him, but I know you, Rian, and the way you came home yesterday tells me everything I need to know.”
I shove away from the wall, arm pressed against Conan’s throat, pushing him back against another wall. He stands there, eyes cold and angry, but doesn’t move, doesn’t try to fight me off, just stares at me in the detached way he’s able to do, which looks like he doesn’t feel as much as he does.
The truth is, Conan feels more than most of us.
“Don’t. Touch. Him,” I spit out before shoving away from him. “Don’t go into his house. He’s to be left alone. If anyone touches him, they have me to deal with.” I hold his gaze longer and add, “It doesn’t matter who it is.”
Conan stands up straighter, runs a hand down his shirt as though he’s trying to smooth it, then raises a brow. “He’s yours?”
The word yes is right there on my tongue, but I can’t push it off. He is mine. I know it and Conan knows it, but how do I wrap my head around that fact? I never thought anyone would be mine again.