Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
A text comes through, and without even looking, I know it’s her.
Caterpillar: Go home.
Two simple words that burn inside of me.
When I get home, Abigail is standing in my living room.
“Where have you been?” She looks past me. “Where is Lilith? I assumed you were going to get her last night.”
“It’s late,” I say, not wanting to discuss anything with her.
“No, it’s early,” she corrects. “Where is Lilith?”
“I fucked up.”
“How?” She follows me as I walk into the living room and kick off my shoes. “Reon, tell me how.”
After opening the refrigerator and pulling out the bottle of wine, I open it and start drinking straight from the bottle. “I got her father sent to prison.”
“Oh, my God, did you? Fuck, that’s huge.” Abigail starts pacing back and forth. “Okay, can you fix it? Is it fixable? I mean, is she close to her father, or does she hate him?”
“I don’t know.”
“You didn’t ask her? Shit! Who is she close to?”
“Me,” I answer.
“Reon.” Abigail huffs with an eye roll.
“She doesn’t have any friends. She’s working on her relationship with her aunt, hates her job, and her favorite color is red. Her leg twitches when she’s anxious, and she watches everyone. Lilith sees more than other people. It’s what I like about her. No, actually, it’s what I love about her.”
“I already knew you loved her, Reon.” Abigail smiles. “I’m glad you realize it now, too.”
“She also loves to Hunt, and she’s a little fucked-up, like me.” I take another sip of the wine.
“Okay, good. So, go to sleep, and tomorrow, work out how you’re going to win her back.”
“I’ve never had to win a woman.”
“Yeah, well, you have never been in love either.”
“What if it’s just in my head? What if I get her, and then I don’t want her anymore?”
“How much do you hate that she isn’t here right now?”
“With all my fucking being,” I tell her.
“Do you really think you can become sick of her?” she asks, and I shake my head. “Go to bed.” Abigail walks over, takes the bottle of wine from my hands, and pushes me toward the bedroom. “I need to leave, but if you need me to stay, I will.”
“No, go. I’ll be fine. Thank you.”
“I love you, Reon. I want you to know that much.” I turn back to her and try to give her some sort of smile. She goes up on her tiptoes and kisses my cheek. “You’ll get her back. No woman, straight or gay, can resist your charms. Go and show her that ring you have and win her back.”
With my sister’s words of encouragement floating in my head, I go to bed, determined to work out a way to win my wife back.
THIRTY-EIGHT
LILITH
He’s lurking in front of my aunt’s house. Linda is standing next to me, her hand covering her mouth as we stare at him through the window.
Reon is pacing back and forth on the sidewalk.
“I think you should talk to him,” she says.
“I don’t want to,” I tell her, shaking my head.
“Your father said he doesn’t blame him, so why do you?”
“He should blame him. He wouldn’t be where he is if it weren’t for Reon.”
“No, Reon followed orders, and that’s why he was involved. Your father took a life, and he deserved to pay the price, so he is. Don’t go blaming that man. If you can’t forgive, then it’s best you tell him, then leave all of this behind.” She nods to Reon, who still hasn’t seen us. My stomach feels empty at the thought of not seeing him ever again.
I spoke to my father and told him about Reon. At first, he was silent. Would he hate me for seeing the man who put him where he is? Just as we started to grow our own relationship?
I would hate that.
I have family now, and I’m growing as a person—more so than I ever did when I was married to Deven.
Deven said that when I married him, he was my life.
He said many things.
Many things that turned out to be lies.
But Reon tries to give me things, do things for me, not fill me with lies.
There is a big difference between the two, and I shouldn’t be comparing them. But it’s really damn hard not to.
“It looks like he pulled those roses from my bushes,” Linda comments, looking at her garden. “Oh, gosh, I think he did. Please, get him out of here before he picks more.” She gives me a pleading look. “I love you, but get rid of him.”
I sigh and reach for the door handle, but my hand feels unsteady as I turn it. The door creaks when I open it, and his head turns toward the sound. I step out and down the porch stairs, my bare feet hitting the cold grass as I tentatively walk toward him.