Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 147545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
“I’m not sure Torrance ever absorbed those lessons. Sometimes I worry that my son is a snake, and the only thing you can trust a snake to do is strike.” He meets my gaze and my fluttering heart lurches. “Whoever murdered my son… they killed the wrong one.”
That’s such a monstrous thing to say, it sucks the air from my lungs. He notes my gasp of horror and look of revulsion, but they don’t seem to bother him.
Standing, he grabs the glass he set down and says, “I hope you enjoyed tonight’s performance as much as you enjoyed Gatsby, but it’s over now. You can go.”
CHAPTER 36
CASSIE
I feel dazed as I return to Tor in the entryway.
His father’s horrid last words still linger beneath my skin, making me feel ill.
That he would say that about his own son…
I want to grab Tor and hug him.
I guess I never considered that there was likely a favorite son.
Now that I realize there was and it certainly wasn’t Tor, I guess it makes sense.
Tim was always the easier of the two of them, and as has been made abundantly clear to me over the past year, everybody loves the easy one.
Not Tor. He likes a challenge, and I suppose he is a challenge, but he’s worth the effort. In my opinion, he’s better than Tim in every way.
Apparently, their father didn’t agree.
Still, I can’t help but think there’s a difference between favoring one son over the other and wishing one had died in the other’s place. What Carson just said to me was so awful, I think it makes me dislike him more than everything he’s done in the past year.
Protectiveness swells up inside me when my gaze meets Tor’s. I can tell he’s still uneasy, and so is his mom. Even Tessa seems a little more watchful, and it occurs to me that maybe the fear I felt in the room before I went to the study was because they knew Carson wasn’t as willing as they are to play along. They knew he might say something terrible to me, and with the threats Tor apparently made…
Myra’s terrified.
I don’t like it.
Maybe she doesn’t deserve my sympathy—she certainly hasn’t had any for me until her son told her she had to—but I’m not like them, and I don’t want to be. There was never cruelty in me before Tim tore my world apart, and now that Tor has managed to repair the damage… I want to let go of any whisper of it that developed over the past year. I want to let go of the pain and the anger. I want to be free.
And with Tor, I know I’m finally safe enough to do that.
He reaches for my waist as soon as I’m close enough, his gaze searching mine for trouble. I let him pull me in, and I loop an arm around his neck, leaning in to kiss his cheek.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“Everything’s fine.”
“You sure?”
I nod. “I promise.”
Tor’s lips tug up slightly as he gazes down at me, and the oxygen supply seems to return to the room.
When I glance at the other two women, I notice the clear relief on Tessa’s pretty face, the hopeful smile returning to Myra’s, but also the nervous glint in her eyes as she gauges her son’s reaction.
At last, it occurs to me that maybe their fearful feelings weren’t entirely about Carson.
Tor’s grip on me tightens a little, and I consider what might have happened if my answer had been different.
Maybe he was controlling their anxiety levels.
The realization crystallizes the clearest distinction between the twins that I never noticed before.
Tim was always able to captivate a room.
But Tor can hold a room captive.
___
Tor is seated on the couch in my living room, and I’m draped across his lap, both of us still dressed up from dinner.
“I love you,” I say, planting another kiss on his lips. “I love you.” Another kiss. “I love you. I love you.” I plant two more in quick succession, and he smiles. “What am I up to?” I ask, pulling back enough to meet his gaze.
Feigning confusion, he says, “Damn, I forgot to keep count. Guess you’ll have to start over.”
I gasp in feigned surprise, clutching my chest like a scandalized debutante. “These must be those predatory lending practices I’ve heard about. How dare you take advantage of a helpless woman like this!”
He grins, tightening his arm around my waist and pulling until I switch positions and straddle his lap. “I’ll show you predatory practices,” he says, leaning in and kissing my neck.
I grin, tilting it to give him better access, loosely resting my arms around his neck. “You can predatorily practice on me anytime,” I tell him.
“I might take you up on that.” He kisses my neck one more time, then his grip relaxes, and he lets me ease back a little to look at him. “So, what’s the verdict now that you’ve met my parents?”