Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 100853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
I needed to talk to Cole.
At the thought, my skin crawled. He was locked in the same state prison I’d spent a year in. And as much as I despised my own cowardice, I couldn’t bring myself to walk through those gates again, even as a free man. Just the thought of it sent clammy sweat to my palms, dripping down my spine. I’d survived incarceration, but now that I was out, I didn’t think I could bring myself to go back, even to get answers from Cole.
I pushed the question to the back of my mind and watched Avery and West leave, Avery sending me a wave, miming that I should call if I ran into any trouble. I’d closed the taproom more than once. Everything would be fine. And it was nice to see Avery happy and rested, the shadows under her eyes gone now that she wasn’t working herself to the bone and had West to lean on.
Business picked up as it usually did in the evenings, the cold bite of winter’s air sending locals and tourists alike inside for the fire and the company—and for Avery’s excellent beer. I imagined when Finn got the kitchen opened, we’d be even more packed in the evenings. I liked being busy, the monotony of it. Filling beers, changing kegs, running cards, wiping the counter. I even liked putting the chairs up and sweeping the floor at the end of the night. It gave me a sense of immediate gratification, something that was sorely lacking in the rest of my life.
Heartstone Manor was dark and silent when I arrived home just before midnight, everyone tucked into their rooms. I made my way to the second floor with quiet footsteps. The hallway sconces in the guest wing were turned low, giving just enough light to make my way to my door at the far end of the hall.
This wasn’t the room I grew up in. Traditionally, the master of the house took the suite currently occupied by my brother Griffen and his wife Hope—a sprawling apartment in the central section of the house. It was luxurious and private, as it should be. Wings extended in a V off each side of the central part of Heartstone Manor—one for family, one for guests. The rest of my siblings lived in the family wing and would for another three years, until the terms of my father’s will were up.
After I was released from prison, Griffen had offered me my old room, but I couldn’t take it. The idea of being surrounded by my siblings was untenable. I didn’t know if I’d been more afraid of love or accusations. Either way, I didn’t want it. I just wanted to be alone.
This isolated guest room at the end of the hall seemed like the answer. I’d forgotten about the electrical and plumbing problems that plagued this wing of the house. I didn’t know when they’d started, only that it was sometime after I’d moved out a few years before.
What I did know was that the plumbing knocked and banged and sputtered, and sometimes didn’t work at all. Ditto for the electrical. It was a flip of a coin whether a light switch would illuminate or merely click uselessly as I flipped it back and forth. Sometimes I plugged things in, and the outlet sparked. Sometimes it worked. We’d had every electrician and plumber in the county come through, and every time they thought they had it fixed—boom, another disaster.
I’d been told our family had been having problems in the entire wing since they’d moved in after the will was read, and we were forced to cohabitate. In the months I’d been home, it seemed the issues had isolated themselves to the two rooms at the far end of the guest wing: mine and the one occupied by Griffen and Hope’s nanny, Paige.
Paige was a good sport about the conditions. As far as I could see, she was a good sport about everything. She needed to be, considering that in addition to caring for Griffen and Hope’s infant daughter, she also ran herd on a six-year-old, a seven-year-old, and a teenager.
I let myself into my room, crossed my fingers, and turned on the shower. Hot water steamed, and I stripped quickly, knowing it might not last. I showered off the long day and was just about finished rinsing the shampoo from my hair when everything went dark and the pipes sputtered.
Turning off what was left of the water, I felt in the dark for my towel. Sometimes a flip of the breaker did the trick. I ran the towel over my hair to remove the worst of the damp, then slung it around my waist.
Pulling open the door of my room, I was surprised to see that the lights were still on in the hall. Turning, I flicked the switch at my door experimentally. Nothing, which was fucking weird. The breaker affected the whole half of this wing, not just my bedroom.