Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 102394 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102394 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
I smiled and took the seat across from her.
Juliette stared off at nothing. “He had the ice cream man come after each game, and he even gave us all a pep talk, telling us how good we’d played and how we’d almost won.” She shook her head. “I keep asking myself if any of it was real.”
“It was real, Juliette. No matter what else he did, those moments were real. You don’t have to erase the good times just because there were bad ones, too.”
She met my eyes. “But how do I live with a man who can do both?”
“You don’t need to figure that out today,” I said. “One thing at a time.”
She laughed, and it somehow turned into a sob. Before I could second-guess it, I was out of my chair and pulling her into my arms. Juliette collapsed against me, her forehead pressing into my chest as she bawled her eyes out. I held her tight, feeling her whole body shake.
“It’s okay,” I murmured, stroking her back. “It might not feel like it, but everything is going to be okay one day.” I held her for the longest time. When she finally pulled back, she let me wipe tears from her cheeks. “Did you eat today?” I asked.
She shook her head.
“How about I make you some bacon and eggs? There’s nothing better than breakfast for dinner.”
She sniffled and nodded her head. “Would you mind if I took a shower while you do that?”
I smiled. “Not at all.”
Juliette disappeared down the hall, and I pulled out everything I’d need to cook. I cracked eggs, fried bacon, and took comfort in the little I could do to help her feel better.
Everything was done by the time she came back out, her hair wrapped in a towel. She offered a small, tired smile. “It smells good.”
I winked. “Me or the bacon?”
Plating the food, I poured juice into glasses and took the seat across from her. “I hope you don’t mind. I wasn’t planning on eating, but the smell of bacon got me.”
She smiled. “Sure, you weren’t. Coming over to check on me at dinnertime was probably just a ruse because your refrigerator is empty.”
The teasing felt nice, normal, even. Juliette dug in quietly while I sat across from her, enjoying whatever I could get. After a few bites, she looked up at me, her eyes still shiny but the tears less threatening. “Thank you for coming.”
“Of course. I’ll always be here when you need me.”
After we finished, I wasn’t sure what to do. I didn’t want to overstay my welcome, but I also hated to leave when she was in such a fragile state. Her phone buzzed on the table, and both our eyes went to the flashing name. Mom. She looked up, seeming uncertain whether she should answer.
“Take it,” I said. “I’ll clean up.”
“Thank you.” Juliette went into the other room and talked for a while. I couldn’t help but overhear some of the conversation since the kitchen and living room were open to each other, though I drowned out most of it running water to do the dishes.
When there was nothing left to clean, I found Juliette on the couch, no longer on the phone. “How’s your mom?”
“She’s okay. Sadly, I think she’s used to him getting arrested. She told me he’d probably get bail and be home in a day or two. Though, I think she might be delusional this time, don’t you?”
I hated to be the bearer of more bad news, but I also couldn’t lie to her. “Capital murder and a history of arrests, I would think it would be tough.”
She sighed. “That’s what I figured. She’s going to call me after she meets with his lawyers in the morning.”
I nodded, looking at her a moment before I finally spoke. “Juliette, I want you to know I had nothing to do with your dad being arrested. None of this stemmed from anything I learned while I was working for him.”
She gave a small, sad smile. “I know.”
“Thank you.” Physical relief washed over me. Tension drained from my shoulders, and the giant knot in my neck loosened. “Is it…okay if I stay for a little while?”
“Only if I set the timer on my phone.”
I looked up at her, and she grinned. “Kidding. Sit down, Wes. It’s weird when you tiptoe rather than bulldoze.”
I took the chair across from her, and for a long time, we were both quiet. Then she began to speak, telling me about the first time her father was arrested in front of her—in the middle of her tenth birthday party, with a dozen of her friends sitting around a pink-frosted cake about to sing happy birthday. I listened, letting her continue without interruption, offering reassurance only when I thought she needed it. Minutes blurred into hours as we talked about her childhood, her complicated relationship with her dad, and all the chaos of growing up the way she had. At some point, she yawned—a big, long yawn with a stretch, and I realized it was almost midnight.