Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 89878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
“And then what?”
“We wait to see if she wakes up on her own.” The weight of her words takes over, and she collapses into her mother’s arms, sobbing. I glance at Noah standing rigid in the corner, his arms crossed over his chest. He’s barely holding it together. The anguish carved in his face cuts through me, but I don’t know how to make this better for him when I can’t pull myself out of my own dark thoughts.
“Noah, why don’t you and Lettie grab something to eat? I want to speak to Georgia’s mother alone.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You are now.”
“I said I’m not—”
“Your bullheaded attitude isn’t helping anyone. Let’s go,” Lettie snaps, storming out of the room. Noah watches her retreating figure, his jaw clenched, then reluctantly follows.
A brief silence hangs in the air as Maribel watches her daughter, the machines allowing her chest to rise and fall. She sighs, a deep regret in her voice. “This is my fault. I should’ve done better for them. My girls have suffered because of me.” She turns to me, her gaze full of sorrow. “My husband died of a heart attack when they were so young,” she continues, and I nod.
“Georgia told me. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“He was our everything—he held our family together. When he died, it felt like a part of me died with him—the part that was supposed to be strong for my girls.” She pauses, swallowing hard. “I thought Bill would bring some light back into our lives. Not to replace their dad but to fill a void. The girls needed a father figure.” She laughs cynically, wiping a tear from her cheek. “I remember the first time he hit me. I was in shock,” she recalls bitterly. “He apologized afterward, telling me how much he loved me and promising it would never happen again. And I believed him—the first time, then the second... until I stopped counting.”
“I knew he had a temper,” she admits, her voice almost breaking. “He yelled—a lot. And sometimes, he would...” She trails off, swallowing hard. “But I told myself it wasn’t that bad. I made excuses.” Her eyes flicker with a mix of guilt and shame. “He was stressed; he didn’t mean it, it was just once. But what kind of mother does that?” She shakes her head. “What kind of mother convinces herself that a man has any excuse to lay a hand on her child?” Her breath shudders. “Georgia didn’t tell me. She was protecting me. And I let her.”
Anger coils in my chest as my fists clench at the thought of anyone hurting Georgia.
She continues, her voice trembling. “One day, while I was working overtime, I got a call. Bill was home with the girls, and he said that while they were playing, Georgia ran into the street and got hit by a car.” Her voice breaks. “But when I saw her, so frail and frightened in that hospital bed, I knew he’d hurt her badly. Enough to pin the blame on a random accident. It’s how the hospital had my contact information. Since she was already in the Health Information Exchange, that’s how they pulled her emergency contacts, even without ID.—”
She halts, burying her face in her hands as her body trembles.
My anger rises at her story, but I force it down. “Is Bill still with you?” I ask.
“He is,” she replies quietly and drops her hands. “But he’s been behaving... ever since Georgia left. Maybe she was a trigger for him. I’m not sure.”
“And Lettie?”
She shakes her head. “He yells, but he’s never... at least, I don’t think so—oh God, have I missed those signs too?” She turns, grabbing Georgia’s hand, a crack in her voice giving her away. “My sweet girl,” she murmurs, crying quietly.
“How could this happen to my baby girl? She doesn’t deserve this. She’s always deserved better than the life she was dealt.” She lifts her head, her eyes pleading. “Please, tell me what happened. No one will tell me anything.”
My chest constricts, caught between what feels right and wrong. Tell the truth or lie? I’m not sure if it’s my place to share our story. There’s a very real chance if—when she wakes up, she’ll want nothing to do with me. Taking the cowardly way out, I offer her mother only the facts.
“And the boy?”
“He didn’t survive.”
“Where is his father in all this? Why hasn’t he come forward and taken responsibility?”
“I don’t know those answers. But trust me, I’ll get them.” I have Craig working overtime, lifting every unturned rock to find where that piece of shit is hiding.
“God, you’re gross.”
“And you’re a little brat.”
“Noah,” I snap as the two return, embarrassed at his behavior in front of their mother.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Blake. His childish insults don’t affect me.”
“Leighton Price. There is a time and a place, and this room is not it,” their mother lectures.