Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 136507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 683(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 683(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)
She’s the only one who never gave up on me.
The lump in my throat swells.
“Let me get a good look at you out of that place.” Her gray-blue eyes shine with tears as she pulls away and assesses me. “Gosh, you’re bigger than I remember,” she murmurs, her hands cupping my bristle-coated jaw as she inspects my face, wincing at the hooked scar at the outside corner of my left eye. “And so handsome.”
And you’re so much older. She’ll turn sixty-three in February. But still pretty. My dad always joked that his wife didn’t need him to go to the supply shop with her. All she’d have to do is smile and every male in the parking lot would trip over their work boots to haul the fifty-pound bags of seed into the back of the truck—not that she couldn’t do it herself. She’s stronger than her slim frame suggests.
But the years of life and worry have left their mark, creasing and spotting her once-smooth complexion and thinning her blond hair, now decisively gray and bound in a loose braid.
“How was the drive?” she asks.
“Long,” my dad grumbles, answering for me.
“I told you, I was gonna take the bus.” I’d already planned out the route and everything.
“And navigate all those terminals on your own? Heavens, no! So much has changed, and we were happy to meet you there. Right, Holt?” Where she had only softness in her eyes for me, her gaze is tight with warning as she stares down my father.
“Is the coffee on?” he asks, avoiding the need to lie.
She waves dismissively toward the house. “Fresh pot.”
He takes three steps before pausing. “Glad to have you home, Logan.”
“Uh-huh.” I watch him amble toward the porch, knowing that tiny olive branch wasn’t extended on my account. My granddad used to say that if Holt Landry has one glaring weakness in his life, it’s my mother. As far as I’m concerned, loving her has always been his greatest strength.
“Honestly, Mom, you didn’t have to send him. No one was going to kidnap me.” I’m six foot two and I’ve spent two decades working out in my cell to kill time and maintain my sanity. I can drop and give one hundred push-ups without breaking a sweat.
I learned quickly that my size would serve a purpose besides beating boredom. I wasn’t an enemy most wanted to make on the inside. And out here in the real world? I imagine people will go out of their way to avoid the guy who has forgotten how to smile.
My mother squeezes my biceps, as if needing more proof that I’m actually home. “That’s not what I was worried about.”
“I know.” It was the overwhelming anxiety that hit me when I stepped outside those concrete prison walls. I’ve been in a cage for twenty years, my life not my own. Told where to eat, sleep, piss, what I’m allowed to do but mostly what I’m not allowed to do.
They warn you that being on the outside will shock your system, but you don’t truly understand what that means until it’s happening.
“I wanted to drive, but your father’s pride wouldn’t let me. You know how he can be. Anyway, I figured you two could use some time together. Do you both good.” She hesitates. “Did it?”
I arch an eyebrow. “What do you think?”
She sighs with resignation. “He’s happy you’re home, even if he doesn’t know how to show it. And he’s changed a lot. Relaxed over the years. You’ll see. But enough about him. Why don’t we get your things, and I’ll help you settle in your new place. We’re gonna have a family dinner tonight. Everyone’s coming.”
Unease stirs. “Who’s everyone?”
“Oh, you know. Sarah and Jon and the kids, your uncle Wyatt and his clan, Bobby and Rhonda and their kids, except for Morgan’s oldest. He’s away at a tournament …”
My head’s already shaking. My family has multiplied like rabbits. I haven’t even met half of them. “I don’t know if I’m up for—”
“Nonsense! I’ve been prepping for days. We’ve got a nice big roast from last year’s harvest.”
My objections die on my tongue. I don’t have the heart to disappoint her, even if my father hadn’t threatened me.
The faint sound of an engine draws my attention next door, to the vehicle moving down the lengthy driveway. I can’t see the driver inside but that must be Emery.
The last time I saw her was at my hearing, her eyes vacant as she watched the judge deliver a sentence few expected. If I hadn’t been so numb from this everlasting nightmare, that version of her might have broken me. Still, it haunted me for years after.
How long before I have to face her again?
What will her first words be to me?
“I invited them,” my mom says, as if reading my thoughts. “But Emery’s covering for one of her sergeants today, and Isla has a hockey game.” After a pause, she adds, “I would expect her to keep her distance for a while, given her position in the community.”