Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 70061 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70061 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
“Well, you can choose to not claim him,” the patrolman says. “But in that case—”
“Can she think about it?” Grace asks, interrupting him. “Is there a number she can call you at once she’s had the chance to think it all through and take it in. This is a lot of information.”
“Of course,” he replies and pulls out his business card, passing it to me. “You have a few days to decide what you’d like to do. You just give me a call if you need anything. I’m very sorry for your loss.”
With that, they both tip their hats to me and leave, and I just stand here, staring at nothing.
“Did that just happen?”
“I’m afraid so,” Drake says from beside me. “I’m sorry, Hannah Banana.”
“I’m not sorry.” I turn to face him, fierce anger burning through me. “It’s just a blessing that he didn’t kill anyone else this time. What the fuck was he doing in Montana anyway?”
“I don’t know,” Drake says. “Hannah—”
“No.” I shake my head and stomp away. “I’m so damn pissed. How dare he come to my home? My home. What did he think he would do when he got here? That we’d have a great reunion, and break out some pictures and reminisce about the good ol’ days? Because there weren’t any good ol’ days, Drake. None. And now they want me to claim his body?”
I laugh and pace around the living room.
“And do what with him? I don’t give a rat’s ass what happens to that body. And why shouldn’t I abandon him?” I continue, seeing red and feeling palpitations begin in my chest. “He abandoned me my whole life. And then he killed my mother.”
My breathing is harsh, and I can feel tears wetting my cheeks.
“Hannah, you need to sit down,” Grace says, but I shake my head. I’m too wound up.
“I don’t understand why he couldn’t just stay in Kansas, in his pathetic life. I am fine without him. I’m better than fine. I’m fucking fantastic.”
I stop to breathe, and realize that I’m having chest pains.
Fuck.
“I’ve worked myself up into a heart attack.”
“What?” Grace demands and rushes to my side. “What’s happening?”
“Chest pain. Short of breath.” I look to Drake, but he’s just watching me intently, not saying anything. “You’re never this stoic.”
“I’m letting you be angry.”
“I’m not angry, I’m fucking furious. I don’t need this.” I let my head fall back. “I can’t die. I just found the love of my life. This isn’t fair.”
“You’re not dying,” Drake says. “You’re having an anxiety attack.”
“Fuck that,” I retort and glare at him. “I’m having chest pain and shortness of breath. You went to med school.”
“I did, and I also know those are symptoms of an anxiety attack.”
“That’s not what this is,” I insist and sit on a chair, holding my chest.
“Maybe I should call 911,” Grace says, but I immediately shake my head.
“No, if you do that, they’ll tell Brad. I don’t want him to see me like this.”
“Hannah, he’s the love of your life as you just put it,” Grace says. “If I didn’t call Jacob at a time like this, he’d spank my ass red, and not in a fun way.”
“Kinky,” Drake murmurs, trying to make me laugh, but it’s not working. “Hannah, take a deep breath.”
“I can’t.” I push my head between my knees and bury my face in my hands, completely mortified. This is how I’m going out. Of a heart attack in my early thirties because my father decided to kill himself on a highway in Montana.
Someone presses a cold rag to the back of my neck, momentarily making me feel better, but then the pain shoots down my left arm and I’m officially freaked the fuck out.
“I have left arm pain.” I stare up at Drake, truly scared now. “Drake, this isn’t normal.”
He sighs and nods. “Okay. I still don’t think it’s a heart attack, but we should take you in to be checked out, just to be sure.”
I nod and stand, letting the business card I’ve been clutching in my hand fall to the floor. I don’t bother with my handbag or phone, or even my keys as I follow Drake out of my house to his car.
“I’m going to call Brad,” Grace says, but I turn on her and point my finger in her face.
“No.” I shake my head. “No, Grace. Do not do that.”
Chapter Eighteen
~Brad~
“WOW, YOU’VE DONE A lot since I was here last.” I’m standing with Jenna at the tree house project, our hands on our hips, staring up at the structures that finally look like a tree house. The siding is cedar shingles, and they look like they’ve been here all along. Like they belong on this mountain.
“It’s amazing what you can get done when you fire a deadbeat and have someone on staff who knows what they’re doing.” She smiles sweetly, and motions for me to follow her into the biggest of the three buildings.