Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 88248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“Hey, S!” I whisper-yell, “Would you mind watching Zane tonight? I don’t want to talk with him around.”
“Of course.”
Me: Can we meet somewhere else? Sierra can watch Zane. I don’t want him to hear anything.
Keegan: I’ll pick you up at 6. Is that okay?
Me: Yes.
Keegan
I’ve spent the last few weeks getting everything ready for the day when I would be able to tell Blakely the entire truth and be able to ask her to move in with me. When she asked if we could talk somewhere else, I knew this would be the perfect place. A fresh start for us. It’s exactly what we need. I purchased this home when I moved here, but I’ve yet to actually live here. If all goes well, the three of us will be living here together.
When I picked up Blakely, she was quiet, but no longer angry. When my mom said she spoke to her, she could see how hurt she was. And I don’t blame her. She doesn’t know the entire story. All she knows is that everyone around her kept important details from her. I’m hoping once she knows everything, she’ll be more understanding.
We pull up to a guard gate and the gate opens automatically. “There’s a sticker on my window,” I tell her. “Without one, you can’t get in.”
She nods in understanding. I drive a few more blocks then make a right onto my street and then a left into my driveway. The house isn’t huge, but it’s a decent size single family home. Three bedrooms, family room, living room, and two and a half baths. It also has a pool in the backyard. When I purchased it, I didn’t know about Blakely and Zane. My only thought was that the market was low and I might as well buy a home instead of renting. Now, I’m really glad I did.
When we enter the home, the aroma of Italian food wafts in the air, and Blakely finally speaks. “Did you cook?”
“I did. I’m not the best cook, but Mom showed me years ago how to make her famous lasagna.”
“Your home is beautiful,” she says softly, looking around at the minimally furnished living room.
“I’ve yet to live in it,” I admit.
“What? Why?”
“Why don’t we eat and then talk, and then afterward I can show you around?”
“Okay.”
I get us each a plate of lasagna, a bowl of salad, and a roll, and set them on the table. “Wine?” I ask.
“I’ll have water, please. I need to be clear-headed.”
While we eat, we keep our conversation in shallow waters, focusing on easy topics like Zane and school. She doesn’t mention anything about me not really being a student and therefore no longer pretending to attend classes. After we’re done, we work together to clean up and then sit on the couch.
“Before you begin, I think you should know a little background about me,” she says. “Growing up, Sierra and I were more often than not left to our own devices. I know my mother loved us, but she came from foster care and felt she owed my father everything. He was very wealthy and traveled a lot, and he would take our mom with him, leaving us with a nanny.”
As I listen to her describe her family life, I can’t help but compare it to my own. They’re like night and day.
“No matter where our mom was, she would read us stories before bed.” She smiles, probably recalling a memory.
“That’s why you read to Zane.”
“Yeah, it was one of the few things my mom passed down.” She frowns, and I find myself reaching for her, but I stop myself.
“I don’t know how much my mom knew about my dad’s work, but the last day they were alive, she implied he had been lying to her for years. He did a bunch of shady business and it led to his destruction, and like always, he couldn’t let my mom go on her own. He ran our vehicle off the road, killing them both.”
“Jail—Blakely…” This time I do take her hand in mine. “Where were you when this happened?”
“Sierra and I were in the car,” she admits. “He was trying to kill us all.” A single tear slides down her cheek. “The thing is, the lies he was telling eventually caught up with him, and he turned to drinking. The drinking made him reckless. He was drunk that day.”
“I’m so sorry,” I tell her, unsure of what else to say. Your parents are supposed to protect you, not be the ones to harm you. I can’t even imagine what she and her sister went through.
“When I found out you lied, everything from my past came back,” Blakely says. “I can handle anything, but I can’t handle being lied to.”
When I open my mouth to speak, she raises her palm to stop me. “I get your lies were necessary, but moving forward, if there’s something you can’t tell me, I need to know that. No more lying, Keegan. I can’t be made a fool of again. I believe my mother let my father lie to her because she loved him and depended on him and would rather be happy and ignorant with the lies than be hurt with the truth. I can’t become my mother.”