Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 131651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 658(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 658(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
I can feel protective Doberman energy rolling off him, filling the room.
But this is my dad and no one can protect me from him.
“You could’ve died for nothing and it’s my fault,” Dad snaps.
“I’m so confused. Why are you saying that?”
He drags a hand down his face. I think he’s hungover again, wearing a rumpled button-down shirt and slacks he’s probably had on for days. The bags under his eyes are puffy, though I can’t tell if it’s the alcohol or grief. His whole face looks swollen.
Jesus, forget my brush with death. He needs to stop before he kills himself.
But a wave of frustrated love rolls through me. Because I’m watching him self-destruct in front of me, yet he still cares deeply for some reason.
He drops into the sofa.
“Shit, I need a drink,” he mutters.
“We’ve got water. I’ll grab you some,” Holden clips, striding to the fridge for a bottle.
I slide off the table and approach the sofa slowly, cautiously. I really don’t get what has him so poleaxed. Is he hallucinating?
Did he read the news about the heist we thwarted and just let his own imagination run with it?
“Dad,” I whisper, grabbing his hand. “What’s going on?”
“Thanks.” He accepts the water from Holden, then looks at me with this hard black sadness in his eyes. “Don’t even know where to begin. I don’t know how.”
“Just try,” I urge, rubbing his hand.
“Uncle Leo left me an inheritance.” The words slam me in the gut. Holy shit, if I wasn’t gripping the sofa, I might fall over. “A trust I’ve had for a while, meant for the two of us with strict rules. But I was proud and angry. I couldn’t give up my demons, girl, you know how I am.” He pinches his nose.
I shake my head softly, waiting for more.
“The old man kept me on an IV money drip for years. Just a monthly stipend, enough to cover the essentials. Never enough to spend on the shit I wanted—casinos, poker tournaments, speculation, the usual. He had more sense than I gave him credit for, and it pissed me off.”
Holden meets my eyes from across the room, like he knows I need something to hold on to. His earthy gaze grounds me.
And the words keep coming, like my father’s purging a disease, gut rot in his soul.
“I figured, in my own screwed-up mind, what’s the harm in keeping your portion for myself? It was supposed to start coming your way when you were twenty years old. I figured I’d win you more. Invest it, do this for the both of us.”
“Dad, I don’t understand,” I say.
“Of course you don’t.” He dashes at his wet eyes. “You thought that little adventure Uncle Leo left you—that stupid fucking wild goose chase—was your inheritance, but it was only supposed to be a bonus. One last grand goodbye. Not something you needed to chase down for money, for your dreams.”
My fingers go cold. “So you’re saying he left me something else?”
“More. A hell of a lot more, Cleo. More than I could ever get to through his lawyers, and that’s a good thing.” He digs in his pants pocket with shaking hands and brings out a crumpled envelope, handing it to me.
It’s unsealed. I pull out a couple pages and my eyes flick through financial details.
“After what went down, I’m done playing games with his ghost, with myself. I’m going to transfer the deposits to your bank account immediately and let the administrator know. All of it, going forward, even the stipend I’ve been pissing away for years.”
Oh my God.
My jaw hangs open.
I sink down beside him, still clutching the envelope so tight the paper creases.
Before, I thought he was hungover, his face puffy and eyes bloodshot, but now I notice I can’t smell any booze wafting off him.
Instead, he looks…
He looks tired.
Like he suddenly feels the weight of the world and doesn’t know what to do with it. His shoulders are slumped and there’s ten tons of crushing lead in his eyes.
He looks kind of sick, too.
This is the first time he’s actually done something truly selfless. For me. Not because there’s something to gain, but because he’s trying to do right.
My eyes sting.
And I’m suddenly very afraid he’s sprouted a conscience and he might stop drinking cold turkey.
“Dad, I appreciate it. More than you know. But we don’t have to do this now. You look sick.”
“No… it couldn’t wait. I realized what I had to do when I saw the news,” he says. “You, getting into trouble over some damn artifact when you could’ve sat on it for years. You shouldn’t have been so worried about money. I did this. I put you in that position.”
Not quite true, but I still can’t speak.
This isn’t the time or place to tell him any money I received was always secondary to keeping the Hera Egg safe and finding it a home. A mission we flunked.