Grace (The Family Simon #5)- Juliana Stone Page 0,70

it? He was cornered and this time there was nowhere to run. This time his past wouldn’t let go.

But maybe that was okay. Maybe it was finally time for him to deal with it once and for all.

He strode across the parking lot and entered a brightly lit foyer. The front desk was manned by a young woman who immediately straightened up when she spied him. She smoothed her bleach blond hair, and licked her glossy lips while tugging her top down a bit. Large blue eyes looked up at him as he approached and she smiled.

Matt wasn’t in the mood to socialize or make small talk. He couldn’t even crack an answering smile. “I need to know where Benjamin Hawkins is.”

Her smile faltered a bit and she glanced at her computer. “Of course. Are you family?” She snapped her gum and blew a bubble. “I’m sorry I have to ask.”

Family? What the hell was family.

“Yeah,” he replied gruffly. “I am.”

“Okay, let me check the list to see if you’re on it. What’s your name?”

“Matt Hawkins.”

A middle aged woman came from nowhere, sobbing uncontrollably into her tissue. Her grief was loud and messy and real and Matt kept his focus on the girl at the desk. He just wanted to get this over.

“Okay. Your dad is in room 211. That’s up the stairs.” She pointed to her right. “And then turn left.”

He nodded and headed up to the second floor. Less than thirty seconds later, he found himself standing in front of 211. How long stood there staring at the damn door was anyone’s guess. He probably would have stood there all night if it hadn’t swung open on its own.

Delilah hesitated, her eyes puffy and red. “Oh.” She sniffled. “You’re here.”

She closed the door behind herself and began to cry. Big, huge, teardrops that made unattractive tracks down her face. “I’m so glad you came,” she managed to say between sniffles and whimpers.

He felt nothing for her, not a damn thing. He’d seen her crocodile tears before and had no interest in knowing if these ones were the real deal or an act.

“I don’t want you in there with me.”

He made no effort to hide his dislike and the tears stopped rolling with one last sniffle. Delilah patted her hair. She opened her mouth to say something and then obviously thought better of it. She grabbed a tube of lipstick from her purse and applied it carefully, eyes on Matt the whole time.

The woman disgusted him.

“I’m going for a coffee. Do you want anything Mattie?”

He strode past her without another word and entered room 211. He smelled it immediately—the unmistakable scent of death. His eyes were drawn to the bed. A slight form lay there, sucked into the mattress and pillows it seemed, and monitors blinked and beeped in the background. The sound of his breathing was hard to listen to.

A small lamp near the bed threw eerie shadows across the prone body and after a few seconds, Matt had to force himself to move. He did it—one step at a time—and stopped near the bed. He couldn’t look at him—not yet—and his eyes moved to the table there.

Several framed photos were on display and Matt frowned, reaching for the one closest to the bed—the one easiest for his father to see. He stared at the image for so long his eyes blurred and he had to scrub at them. He hadn’t thought about that day in a long, long time.

“Mattie. Hold that darn fish up so your mother can get it in the shot.”

“I’m trying, Dad.” But the fish was slippery and wanted back into the water. Matt held onto his fishing rod, nearly lost it, and bit his tongue in an effort to keep the slippery fish in the boat. It wasn’t that big, a little old sunfish, but he’d caught it on his own.

“I got it, Dad!”

His father leaned in close, arm around Matt as the two of them beamed at his mother. She was on the dock with their lunch unpacked and ready to go.

Her hair blew in the wind and her dress billowed around her legs. She was laughing, trying to keep the hair from her eyes so that she could take the picture.

“Get closer, Mommy,” Matt shouted.

He held up the fish and puffed out his chest.

“Closer!” He laughed, watching his mom take another step forward. She snapped the photo and then, with a yelp, went flying head over heels into the water.

For one

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