Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 132097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 660(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 660(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
He looks up sharply from scribbling something on his notepad.
“Ethan… you can’t mean bothering the Rollins?” He stares at me for ten heavy seconds before he huffs, his mustache flapping. “Aw, hell. You always were bullheaded and it’s not like I can hold you back. Just tread lightly, okay? They’ve still got the same old place over on Chamberlain.”
“Always, Chief. Thanks.”
I don’t hesitate another second.
I just shake his hand firmly and scuttle.
Hell has more layers than a wedding cake, and if I ever want to enjoy Hattie shoving our cake in my face, I have one more stop to make.
I’m fucking winging it now.
Hattie barely says a word on the drive over.
My quiet thumbs-up and few words of reassurance are all she needs, plus my hand locked in hers, silent and grateful she’s here.
If it were just me, it might’ve taken years to grow balls big enough to do this today.
But for her, for us, I have every reason to purge the black deadweight in my soul.
And that’s what I’m doing as my knees turn to lead and I march up to the door of the small old New England style house.
Taylor’s father, Joe, answers, a big man who doesn’t recognize me at first.
But Tay’s mother is there too, and she looks so thrilled when she sees me, urging me to come in.
No theatrics.
This isn’t the time.
It’s gut-wrenching as I wave off her repeated attempts to bring me coffee and pie—still the same damn blueberry pies—until I finally get them settled on the sofa across from me.
I sit in an old recliner, slumped forward with my hands folded.
“There’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll make it quick,” I begin. “When Taylor died, it tore me up. Just not for the reasons you’d think.”
I look up, just in time to see their faces tighten.
“Ethan, what do you mean? I don’t follow.” Maggie Rollins whispers.
“The night she had her accident, she was leaving my grandfather’s place. I’d blown her off for a few weeks and she was done waiting around to talk to me.” I watch Maggie wince. “She was pregnant, and she came to tell me. I’m guessing you guys already knew that. Like a lot of idiotic young men who live their lives on easy mode, I didn’t take it well.”
Her father stiffens. Joe’s eyes flash with suspicion, sizing me up as a threat, and they absolutely should.
“I threw a shitfit—pardon my language. That’s what I did, and she ran off in tears. Later, I came to terms with it. I was coming over here the next day to apologize for what an idiot I’d been and promise her we’d work something out. But it never got that far.”
They’re both watching me like hawks as I pause to swallow before continuing.
“Because I freaked out on her, because I panicked, she stormed off crushed.” Every breath feels like mud as I try to inhale. “I’m not saying I caused her to—yeah. I don’t know if I did. But up until today, when I saw Chief Saunter, that never would’ve made it in any report. I’m sure you might’ve wondered what made her drive so reckless, and you’re looking at the reason. This guy, who used to be a punk and didn’t want to grow up fast enough. I’ve held onto it for years and I’m sorry as hell. Just wish I could give you a whole lot more.”
The next ten seconds are pure brutality.
Maggie’s face shrivels like a pale prune, but she doesn’t cry.
It’s Joe who springs up, marches across the room, and smashes my face.
I’m not expecting the punch and the impact knocks me to the floor.
By the time my vision clears, I’m covering my face, slowly lowering my hand just in time to see him stomping away, muttering to himself.
“I deserved that,” I mutter painfully. “Maggie, I’m so—”
“You were just a boy,” she interrupts softly, lacing her fingers together and leaning toward me. “You know what I’ve missed about Taylor all these years? Guess.”
Not a fucking clue.
I shake my head.
“…her music? She was always good at that, even talked a few times about flying around to sing for charity.”
“That would be second.” Maggie smiles. “What I’ve missed more than anything, Ethan, is how gentle my girl was. How forgiving. She had a heart that was softer than mine—and I know it would break all over again if she looked down and saw me deciding to do anything different.”
I’m still dazed as she stands, walks over, and hugs me tightly.
“Thank you for giving us the truth. Deep down, we both wondered, but I forgive you. Maybe not fully. Maybe not today. But in the weeks and months, I know I will, and so will Joe. Eventually. You need an ice pack for your face?”
“No,” I mutter, shaking my head as she untangles herself and stands, folding her arms.