Vindicate (Recovered Innocence #1)(69)

“That’s another one hundred and fifty-two days,” she says.

She did the math. Of course she did. I don’t know if it’s a coping mechanism or an obsession. Either way, I feel the anguish and anger she’ll endure in every single one of those days. And that’s if we’re lucky. It could take longer. It could not happen at all. What then? What if Beau is never freed?

“Two thousand two hundred and forty-one days altogether,” she intones, like some f*cking electronic clock.

I can barely see her through the rage that hits me out of no-f*cking-where. “How many hours is that? How many minutes? Seconds? Nanoseconds?”

“Why are your mocking me?”

“I’m not mocking you. I want to know. I want to know how deep it goes. Come on. How many hours?”

“I don’t know.”

“Need a calculator?” I pull out my cellphone, punch up the calculator setting, and hold it out to her. “Go on.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“I’ll do it for you.” I jab my finger at the buttons. “Two thousand two hundred and forty-one times twenty-four. That’s fifty-three thousand, seven hundred eighty-four hours.” I hold it up for her to see. “That’s sounds a lot worse than two thousand and some odd days, doesn’t it?”

“Stop it.”

I can’t stop. “There are sixty minutes in an hour.” I punch the clear button. “If we times twenty-four by sixty that’s one thousand four hundred forty minutes in a day. Times that by your two thousand two hundred forty-one and it equals…” I’m out of control. I know I’m out of control, but I can’t stop. “Holy f*ck. Three million two hundred twenty-seven thousand and forty minutes.”

“Stop.”

“Three million is f*cking dramatic, isn’t it? You should count the motherf*cking minutes, not the days. People will really feel sorry for you then.”

“What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing. There’s nothing wrong with me. What’s wrong with you, Cora?”

“Why are you doing this?”

“I’m helping you. It’s what I do. I help you. That’s all I do, all I’m good for.”

“I don’t know what you want from me.”

I stalk toward her. “Don’t you?”

Watching me with wide eyes, she shakes her head.

“I want you to care about me half as much as you care about counting the days, Cora. I want to mean more to you than how much longer it’s going to be before you can resume your life. I want you to resume your life right now, no waiting to see what happens with Beau. Because you know what? At some point counting the days has to end. You can’t keep going on like this. If you won’t do it for me, do it for yourself. Hell, do it for Beau. He practically begged you to so many times. And I know you’d do anything for him. Do this. Do this one thing. Have a life.”

“I have a life.”

“No. You don’t.”

“What do you know about having a life, having responsibilities? I’m all Beau has. I’m it. If I leave him, he’s got no one.”

“There are no absolutes here. You can have a life and still be a good sister.”

“You want me to pick you over Beau.”

“You can have us both.”

“No, I can’t! I can’t move on like everyone else has and leave him behind. I won’t do it. I’m all he’s got.” She defiantly swipes at a tear that dares to fall.

She’s broken. I’m broken. I don’t know what I’m doing here. I don’t have a chance with her. I never did. But there’s one undeniable fact that neither one of us can ignore.

“I love you,” I say simply. “I’m not saying it because I’m losing you. I can’t lose what I never had. I’m saying it because it’s true.”

She takes in a rough breath. She’s a fighter, my Bluebird. A fighter right up until the end. And this is it. The end. The end of us and whatever we might have been. The end of her needing my help. And the end of me fighting an unwinnable battle.

I let her go and walk away.





Chapter 33


Cora


He doesn’t slam the bedroom door. No, he closes it softly. The sound of it is so quiet, nearly inaudible, but it echoes in my head like a gunshot, jolting my body as if I’ve been hit. His words rip through me, exposing the cracks in my defenses.

He doesn’t love me. He can’t. That’s not what was supposed to happen here. He wasn’t supposed to make me want things I can’t have. He wasn’t supposed to make me want to follow him and slam the door behind me and make him feel what he’s making me feel right now. I choke back a sob. And he sure as hell wasn’t supposed to lay down that ultimatum.

I can’t abandon Beau now. There’s too much on the line. I’m too close. I can almost see him the way he used to be. I can see the days he’s been in prison falling off him like leaves on a tree, revealing the old Beau one by one. Two thousand and eighty-nine days, counting today. Leo mocked me for keeping track, but he doesn’t understand. No one understands. No one but Beau. I count them because Beau does. It’s the only thing we can still do together.