Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 124451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 498(@250wpm)___ 415(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 498(@250wpm)___ 415(@300wpm)
“I—”
“Don’t even think about arguing,” Tanner mutters just as he takes the vegetables off the steamer and nearly drops them, pulling a face before pretending everything is cool.
I roll my eyes and reluctantly take a seat at the island counter. While they may have it under control, a little supervision wouldn’t go astray. I’m not familiar with Brielle’s abilities in the kitchen, however I’m more than familiar with my son’s, and it’s not a good mix.
“Oh, hey,” Brielle says, putting down the spatula and crossing the kitchen. She unplugs the phone laying on the counter and hands it to me. “I managed to find a charger. It’s old and slow, but it’s doing the trick.”
“Ahhh, thank you, sweetheart,” I say, dropping my attention to the phone as I hold down the power button. Just like before, it takes a few seconds before the Apple logo appears on the screen, but this time, the ancient device does what it’s supposed to do. It clearly hasn’t been used in a while and takes a little longer than my patience can handle, but the moment the home screen finally loads, I’m ready to dive in.
My stomach twists with unease, but it’s now or never. If I truly want to learn my husband’s secrets, then this is how it’s going to happen. Though, I can’t see how it could possibly get any worse than secretly divorcing me and starting a new family across the planet.
Letting out a shaky breath, my finger hovers over the photo gallery before finally mustering up the courage to press down. It opens to an array of images, each one more horrifying than the next. My husband with strippers, licking their bodies and snorting cocaine off their breasts. My husband at parties, hooking up with random women, drugs spread out on tables. There are dick pics and photos of other women in compromising positions, clearly images sent on request.
Bile rises in my throat, but I keep looking, unable to stop until I come to a video of Trenton, holding the camera up as he screws some woman on a table. I exit out of it, the noises coming from the video making me want to die.
Tanner meets my gaze over the top of the phone, and I simply shake my head, not wanting to hear whatever it is he has to say about this, though also not wanting to submit Brielle and Tanner to this filth. I exit out of the photo gallery, determined to revisit this when I’m alone.
Instead, I move onto the text messages.
My hands shake, but determination has a death grip on me, and I open it up to a slew of text messages from random women with names like Candy, Stacey, Tiffany, and Starlight. I’m trying not to gag when a name in the inbox draws my attention like a black hole in the sky.
Rachael.
“What in the ever-loving hell is this?” I mutter under my breath. The comment has Tanner whipping around from the stove to watch me with curiosity, but I pay him no attention, needing to see what the hell this is about.
My stomach twists and clenches. The messages are dated from two years ago, and I pray this isn’t the same Rachael who’s the mother of Tanner’s child.
I scroll up to the beginning of the conversation and start reading, each word like another knife right through my chest.
Rachael - What am I going to do? Please, Trenton, you have to help me.
Rachael - Answer me. This is just as much your problem as it is mine.
Rachael - I didn’t get pregnant by myself you know. If you don’t do something about this, I’m telling everyone what you did.
Trenton - Okay, alright. Settle down. Don’t go and make any rash decisions. We can figure this out. You’re only seventeen. No one can know about this. I’ll make an appointment and handle it.
Rachael - Appointment? What for?
Trenton - An abortion. You can’t have that baby.
Rachael - Missed call.
Rachael - Missed call.
Rachael - Missed call.
Rachael - WHAT DO YOU MEAN ABORTION? I’M NOT HAVING AN ABORTION! ANSWER ME!!! Sooner or later, people are going to realize I’m pregnant, and they’ll ask questions. What the hell am I supposed to say?
Trenton - Stop calling me. You have to have an abortion. I’m not having this kid with you. You’re on your own, but if anyone finds out about this, you’ll regret it.
Rachael - You’re not exactly in a position to threaten me, Trenton. I’m seventeen, remember. Underage. Pretty sure that’s considered rape in a court of law. And for the record, me and my boyfriend broke up, so you can’t use him as your scapegoat.
Trenton - Fuck.
Rachael - Missed call.
There are a few more missed calls and a slew of raging texts from Rachael, and then finally a response from Trenton almost a week later.