Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 95676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
"I bet that's not true. How long have you and Erin been friends?" I ask, tucking her back into the bed beside me. My hand drifts through her hair, gently unsnarling tangles with my fingers.
"Since our first day of college."
"You were roommates, right?"
"Yeah. She's been with me for a long time. I really miss her."
"Does she travel a lot?"
"Sometimes." She cracks her eyes open to look at me. "Why?"
"Just trying to get to know the people in your life," I say, only partially lying. The truth is, the people closest to her have always been on my suspect list, but they moved all the way to the fucking top today. Whoever sent that song was someone who had intimate access to her—a close friend, a fellow teacher. Someone she wouldn't have suspected.
"Erin would never do something like this," she says vehemently. "She's like a sister to me, Cam. She put me back together when she met me, and then again when my dad died. She's an amazing person and an even better friend. Her family is like my own."
"I'm not accusing her," I say, trying to forestall a fight. She's not ready to hear what I have to say, and I'm not sure I'm ready to say it. I need to do more digging. "I'm simply curious about the people who are important to you. Do you have any family left?"
"No. Well, kind of. My mom's dad is still alive, I guess, and so is her stepsister, but I've never met them."
"Oh?"
"Her dad didn't approve of her marrying my dad, so he cut her out of his life." She sighs heavily, burrowing deeper into my arms. "Social services tried to track him down after she and Amelia died, but I guess he didn't want anything to do with me. He didn't even come to the funeral."
"Christ," I whisper, pressing my lips to her crown. What kind of father doesn't even attend his own daughter's funeral? What kind of grandfather allows his granddaughter to go through that alone? The sorry son of a bitch doesn't deserve a place in her life. "I'm sorry, kitten."
"I'm not. I mean, yeah, it would be nice to know where my mom came from, but her dad obviously didn't care about her, or he would have given my dad a chance. My parents were amazing. I kind of feel like anyone who didn't want to be a part of their life together probably doesn't deserve to be in mine, so I don't waste wishes on meeting my grandfather."
I run my lips across her crown again, squeezing her gently. She's not wrong.
"Do you have a lot of family?" she asks.
"Just my parents, and my grandmother, who lives in Puerto Rico. There are several cousins and extended family members in Puerto Rico as well."
"Is that where your family is from?"
"Sort of. My grandmother is from here, but my grandfather was born and raised in Puerto Rico. He met my grandmother while serving in the military. They settled down in San Francisco to raise my father. Once he was grown, they moved back to his childhood home. My grandfather died not long before my dad retired."
"Wow. Have you ever been there to visit?"
"A few times," I say. "It's been a while though."
"You should visit again someday. I bet your grandmother would love to see you."
"I bet she'd love to meet you too," I murmur. It's nothing but the truth. My grandmother would adore her. My mother too. I already know they'll fall in love with her the minute they meet her.
"Cam." she tilts her head back to look at me. "The only place I'm going anytime soon is to jail."
"Not if I can help it."
"What if you can't?" she whispers, biting my lip.
I scowl at her.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way."
"Then how did you mean it?"
"You know what kind of evidence they have that says I'm guilty. She sent him a song in my handwriting. She registered a phone under my name and address. She's stolen my pictures and entire pieces of my life. What if nothing you find is enough to overcome all of that?"
I sigh and sit up, pulling her up with me. "I know what evidence they have, kitten. But I haven't just been twiddling my thumbs, hoping something substantive falls into our laps."
"I know. You were looking into me."
"Yes, but that's not all I was doing." I climb from the bed and cross to the desk, grabbing my laptop before making my way back to her. I settle beside her and open the top, waiting for it to come out of sleep mode. When it does, I click on a folder and then begin opening documents.
Ivy watches in silence until I plunk the laptop down in her lap.
"Look," I say.
She clicks on the first document I opened and sees all sorts of pictures of herself.