Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 109176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
“Let’s go grab coffee and chat, then I’ll tell Coach I’m back.”
I wonder what that will mean for me. Sure, I’ve been doing work that’s for the whole team, but the majority of my time has been helping Dane.
I follow Molly toward the back office, and when we get there, my father sees her. His face lights up, eyes soft, and he’s wearing the largest smile I have ever seen on his face. He’s never looked at me like that. My stomach hollows.
He looks at her like a daughter. Like when she’s around, his life is complete.
I’m his actual biological daughter, and he doesn’t look at me like that.
It’s soul-crushing.
A weight presses down on my chest, and it feels like I can’t breathe. It feels like a hand has reached into my chest, squeezing my heart.
I need to get out of here, but for some reason, I can’t will my legs to move. The longer I stay, the more I will shatter, yet I can’t turn away. Can’t stop the pain that’s filling my veins.
“Molly, you’re back early,” my father says as he pulls her in for a hug.
“Between us, I missed home.” Her words sound muted and distant next to the loud ringing in my ears.
I look at her and take in her soft features. “I’m not used to being away from family that long.”
My last bit of strength slips away.
“I can understand that.” He nods as he steps back. A sad, pathetic sound squeaks out from behind my closed lips. My father turns in my direction, and his mouth drops open the moment he sees me. I think he just realized what he said and how it would affect me, or maybe that’s wishful thinking.
My heart thumps violently, and I fear it will break in half.
Can that even happen?
Mom once told me that you can die from a broken heart. Maybe she was referring to my father. Maybe her former self perished from his rejection.
Tears form in my eyes. I want to weep with jealousy, with how unfair this all is, but I can’t. I need to stay strong. With each second that passes, more liquid collects, and I know without a doubt that if I don’t get out of here right now, I’ll fall to the ground and sob.
I turn back to Molly but don’t meet her stare. “I’ll meet you in a few minutes. I just forgot something.”
Without waiting for her to object, I dart back in the direction we came, looking for an exit, for somewhere to go.
Finally, I see a door and throw it open.
It’s a closet. A large one, but still a closet. This one houses equipment.
The moment the door closes behind me, I start to breathe heavily. I think I’m going to hyperventilate.
My lungs feel heavy, and it’s hard to pull air in. I lean forward, placing my hands on my knees, and try to gulp in air. The sound of the door opening filters in through my ears, but I’m too lost in my mind to turn to see who’s walked in. Then a hand touches my back.
It’s comforting.
“Shh, you’re okay.” Dane.
He moves in closer until his presence feels large around me.
My shoulders shake until Dane envelops me in his arms, pulling me close. The warmth from his embrace calms the tremors working their way through my body.
“Take a deep breath, okay?” I follow his orders. Inhaling slowly. Then exhaling.
“You’re okay,” he coos, and I want to believe him. Want to cling to his words as if they are a life raft that will protect me and keep me safe.
Life doesn’t play out like that, though.
Even if, for a moment, the world outside ceases to exist while in his arms, it will all come rushing back to drown me the second I walk out the door.
I’d still have no answers from my mother.
I’d still be living with a father who didn’t want to be part of my life.
And I’d still be desperately attracted to a man who would never fight for me.
Dane brushes away a tear on my cheek with his thumb.
I can’t imagine what I look like. My eyes sting, and my nose most likely is red and puffy.
A real picture of perfection.
It takes a few minutes of following his breathing prompts, but soon my heart is no longer racing, and I’m feeling more myself.
His hand reaches out, and his fingers lift my jaw.
“What happened?” His voice sounds gruff.
I try to pull away, but he won’t let me. “I don’t want to talk about it.” Resting my head on his chest, I listen to the steady rhythm of his heart. The sound grounds me, keeps me present in the moment, and allows me a brief second of solace before reality crashes back in with the sound of his sigh.
“Talk to me. I know all too well about keeping stuff inside you, but sometimes it does help to let it go.”