Page 117 of Burning Daylight
I’m not sure I’m doing a great job at selling it to her.
“I hate you for doing this,” she whispers. “You just left me here. Withher.”
Her words cut through my chest. But if she needs to have me as a punching bag for her anger, then that’s fine, I’ll be that. I remember what it was like to be a seventeen-year-old kid with a ton of anger on my shoulders and nowhere to direct the pain.
I run a hand through my hair. “You know, once things settle down, youcouldcome live with me. I know you hate me and all right now, but would it really be so bad?”
“My doctors are here.”
“Connecticut has better ones.”
I don’t know if that’s true, but now I have the means to get her the best care in the world, and I’ll make sure she has it,whether she likes that or not. And it may not be safe for her right now in Rosebrook, but maybe one day…
“That all takes time.” she says sharply.
“Not when you’re a Montgomery it doesn’t,” I snap, my tone strong.
She scoffs. “Whoareyou?”
“Guess you’d better keep talking to me, so you can find out.”
A blacked-out Rolls-Royce pulls into my driveway, and my spine straightens. That looks like my father’s driver.
It pulls to a stop, and the door swings open, Benjamin appearing, followed by Merrick.
“Listen, I’ve gotta go. Just think about what I said, okay?”
Brooklynn sighs. “Yeah, all right.”
“Love you, kid.”
“Ditto.”
Click.
I stare at the two guys standing in my driveway. “What are you two doing here?”
Benjamin lifts a brow and leans against the car, picking at his nails like he’s bored, but Merrick puts his arms out and shimmies his chest. “Here to party, sweetheart.”
I look behind me at my house and then back at them. “I think you’re at the wrong place, then.”
“Afraid not.” Merrick jogs over to me and pats me on the back, his fingers digging into my shoulder blade. “We’re taking you out.”
My life is splitinto three parts.
Before the car accident, after the car accident, and then whatever this fresh hell is.
Before, I used to watch the life of my father like a kid looking at candy through a storefront window. So close but out of my price range.
Sitting here in the HillPoint at the Round Table with Merrick and Benjamin, things feel a little different.
Now, I have that life, and I wonder if there’s a little kid standing outside a frosted window, gazing in and wishing he could be me. The thought makes me sick to my stomach. I’m playing a part now, emulating the way I envisioned my father when I was growing up.
I lean back in the booth, my ears tuning out the noise of the other bar patrons until it’s a dull, soft murmur.
“How’s life, sweetheart?” Merrick asks, tipping his beer.
“Would you quit calling me that?” I complain.
