“I’m so fucking sorry. Let’s get you guys home.”
“Mom,” I croak out, dragging her close to me.
Sometimes the next story starts with a simple Google search.
Try searching forLokepubwhen you are ready.
She feels frail and old, yet she’s not a day over sixty.
“Mom, we need to go.”
Mom throws herself onto the tan blanket that covers my father, emblazoned with the hotel's name.
“Alec!”
Soft sobs follow, and I stand, my legs feeling like Jello.
“I’m really fucking sorry.”
I nod, not needing to look at Issac to know how sorry he is.
He’s been my best friend for three years, and Dad thought the world of him. He’s at ours for every holiday, and there will always be a place for him.
He shakes his head, his mouth in a grim smile.
“What the fuck, man?”
I nod in agreement, not knowing where to look.
My mother is breaking her heart over her dead husband's body, and I can’t find a single word in the world to comfort her.
Not a damn thing.
“Is there anything I can do?” Issac asks with his hand on my shoulder.
“Call my mom's sister. I don’t know how to handle her like this.”
I back away, far away, until my back hits the wall.
This is it.
Dad’s gone.
DANIELLE
I've never seen a man break before. Not like this. I'd watched Blake walk into the function room not long ago—all jaw and confidence, that easy smirk still on his lips—and now he’s on the floor beside his father, looking like someone has carved his insides out.
“Please look after him,” I whisper to Issac, moving away from the navy-blue eyes that are breaking into pieces before me.
Where is his confidence? His control?
I desperately need to see it.
Blake James needs to stand up and own this situation; anything other than this.
Scream, cry.
Just don’t sit in silence staring ahead like you’re dead to the world, Blake.
