Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
I shake my head.
He grins. “Make sure you scream. It’s what gets me hard.”
4
EZEKIEL
Someone took Blue.
Someone took her because I left her alone and unprotected.
Not the first time you did that, is it?
My mind mocks me. My own thoughts turn against me.
I step out of the shower and dry off. Dropping my ruined clothes in the trash can, I cross my old bedroom, the room I grew up in that is as foreign to me as the bedroom I’m borrowing in Clayton Bishop’s house. Inside the closet hang my clothes. They, too, seem unfamiliar. Like they belong to someone else. Another man living another life. Because what I’m doing isn’t living.
On autopilot I pull on clothes, jeans and a dark sweater, socks and shoes. I comb my hair, trying not to look too long at a man I no longer recognize in the mirror. I am a shell, a corpse walking in this hollowed out husk of flesh.
History repeats.
I shouldn’t have left her alone. I shouldn’t have trusted anyone else to look after her.
My phone, which is on the nightstand beside hers and that flash drive, rings. I pick it up when I see it’s Robbie.
“Just pulling through the gates.” I hadn’t bothered to close them after driving in.
“I’ll be down in a minute.” We disconnect and I walk down the hall. When I pass Angelique’s door, I see it’s open a crack. She’s always done that ever since she was little. Always afraid, as if her subconscious knows, that life can turn on a dime and the people you love can vanish. Poof. Like they were never there at all.
Like Zoë.
Like Blue.
History repeats.
I push that door open now and see her little head on the pillow, her dark curls wild. She stirs, a light sleeper even at her young age. I enter the room as she lifts herself up onto her elbows, then rubs her eyes.
“Uncle Zeke? Is that you?”
Hearing her voice in person like this, not over FaceTime, it makes me smile. It’s the one thing that can do that these days. It’s her innocence. That’s what children are, innocence. And hope, maybe. Hope that we can be better. That we aren’t all shitty human beings.
“It’s me, sweetheart,” I say, and move to sit on the edge of her bed.
“Uncle Zeke!” She wraps her arms around me and squeezes hard.
“You’re going to choke the life out of me,” I tease.
She draws back. “I just want to make sure you’re real. I might still be dreaming.”
“You’re not dreaming. It’s me.” I push hair back from her face. She’s growing up fast. She’s going to be a beauty, like her mother was.
“What are you doing here?” she asks.
“I’m back to visit for a little while. I wanted to see you but didn’t want to wake you.”
“It’s okay. I’m waiting up for mom and dad.” I realize she calls Isabelle mom. I wonder how long she’s been doing that.
“Well, they’ll be here soon.”
“They’re at a party.”
“That’s right. I promised I’d check in on you, but I’d better let you get back to sleep.”
She nods and lays back down. “You’ll be here for breakfast?”
“I’ll try.” I stand up. She’s tired, I can see that. Her eyes close even as she struggles to keep them open. After tucking her in, I kiss her forehead. She smiles. “Sweet dreams, sweetheart.”
“Sweet dreams,” she says absently, already gone.
I walk out of her bedroom making sure to keep the door open a crack as she likes and head downstairs where I hear my mother and Robbie. I saw her when I got in and all she did was take one look at me and let me pass to have a shower.
“Mom,” I say once I’m down the stairs.
She looks me over. “Zeke.” She smiles, hugs me tight. It’s good to see her look healthy and feel solid in my arms. Her cancer is gone, but it’s always on the back of my mind. I’m sure it’s on hers too.
“Where are Isabelle and Jericho?”
As if on cue, my phone rings. I see it’s Jericho and answer quickly. “Brother?”
“You home?” Jericho asks.
“Yes. How’s Isabelle?”
“She’s fine. A broken arm, but it could have been worse. Baby’s okay.”
“Good.” I am relieved.
“We’ll be home in the morning. They want to keep her overnight to monitor the baby. Make our excuses, will you?”
“I will.”
“Any news on Blue?” he asks with uncertainty in his voice.
“Not yet.”
“You find anything, you call me. Do not go after her alone, you hear me?”
“Go take care of your wife, Brother. Robbie’s here. I need to go.”
“Do you hear me, Zeke?”
I won’t promise that. “Here, talk to mom.” I hand the phone to my mother and walk with Robbie into Jericho’s study.
If Wyatt Hoxton has a brother, it makes sense that he’d have caused the accident and taken Blue. “How the fuck did we miss the fact that the brother exists?”