Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 69129 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69129 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
“I didn’t want anything to exacerbate your…condition.”
“You’re not one of my fucking doctors! You don’t get to make that call!”
“I am your husband! I absolutely get to make that fucking call!”
“My husband, not my fucking dictator!” Frustration compels my fingers to curl yet rather than do it around his neck, I snatch up the chip to give them something else to do. “I try so fucking hard to discuss shit with you and all you seem to do is decide for me like we’re living in some shitty remake of The Beautician and The Beast.” My backside slams into the counterspace beside his and flicks the object for a second time. “I am tired of having no say or a less than say because I’m still dealing with gaps in my memory. Gaps in my memory doesn’t mean I cannot make rational decisions about my fucking future and if you cannot get that into your memory, we will not have a future together.” The coin landing in the cup on a victorious clink precedes me snapping my stare to his. “Am I making myself who sits in the captain’s chair clear, Mr. Wilcox or do I need to continue?”
Our eyes lock and stay locked as a long and painful lull oscillates between us.
I get it.
I get we have gone through a lot, are going through a lot, will most likely have to go through a lot more; however, I refuse to be held captive in the brig in my own goddamn marriage.
I’d rather be divorced and on a different ship.
“Understood,” Wes whispers out, voice sad and shaky.
“Good.” Folding my arms firmly across my chest, I push, “What happened at Wy’s academy?”
“An unidentified woman – that our team is currently in the process of trying to identify – attempted to abduct him from school.”
“Ohmygod!” my hands are instantly thrown up into the air. “That’s the type of shit you call me about!” I leave no opportunity for him to rebut or make excuses. “What did the school do?!”
“Their protocols kept him safe. Protected. Wy has no idea that it even happened.”
One palm lands on my chest in relief.
“However, I believe it’ll be in his best interest to be removed from their premises until we have this situation completely handled.”
“No.”
Bewilderment immediately bursts across his face. “No?”
“You’re not uprooting our son’s entire existence, so you feel better about his safety. It’s bad enough you’re doing it to me. I won’t let you do it to him.”
“I am simply trying to keep you both safe.”
“You are simply trying to control an uncontrollable situation.”
Dark grumbles that would be sexy in another situation leave him as he retreats to snatch up his chip. “I want people to stop saying that.”
“Then stop giving us a reason to.”
His eyes meet mine after he has the small item back in his possession.
“We can’t, and we shouldn’t, be scared to live our lives, Weston. I shouldn’t have to avoid work. Wyland shouldn’t have to avoid school. Us not living allows for whoever is attacking us to win. Am I saying we shouldn’t proceed with caution?”
“That’s what it sounds like.”
“That’s not what it is.” I move to rest my frame again against the surface. “Proceeding with caution is accepting heightened security measures not never leaving the estate. It’s allowing an extra guard at the door not a small military. It’s understanding that when I go to South Haven to give a speech to inspire some Clover Rose students as well as check on Steven and have dinner with Calen in a couple weeks means I won’t be glued to my phone, and you won’t be receiving on the hour every hour updates from me personally.”
He hesitates to flick the chip. “You don’t think we should discuss you leaving the city for work?”
“No.”
His jaw doesn’t hesitate to drop.
“Initially, I considered it, but that was before I realized you still need a few lessons in having to give up control.”
To my surprise, he lifts his hands in defeat, takes his flicking position, and launches the object through the air, once more missing the glass completely. “I hate this game.”
“And this game clearly hates you,” I tease on a hand gesture.
“I think our best friend might as well.”
This time I go retrieve the item in tandem with asking, “What happened?”
“He went with me to check on Wy when the school called-”
“Oh, the uncle gets to go but not the mom?”
Another remorseful look precedes him continuing, “And then when he calmly expressed a similar sentiment to the one you just did regarding our son, I...may have…told him…he had no say…and wouldn’t understand…because…he’s…not…a…parent.”
“Wes!”
“I knew it was fucked up the minute it came out of my mouth.”
“Then why did you say it?!”
“I was pissed! And frustrated! And scared about Wy!”
There’s no stopping my shoulders from sinking or my body from swaying closer. “Weston.”