Lost King by Piper Lennox (moboreader txt) 📗

exactly. Seven years ago, right after news reached her of what happened with Callum, she tried convincing me to move back into Thalia’s condo.

“We don’t need you working out there, putting yourself in danger,” she cried over the phone. “I don’t even want in-home care, so stop sending Thalia that money. I’m going to a facility. Someplace my disability checks can pay for on their own.”

I’d talked her down, eventually, and reassured her the Hamptons were perfectly safe. What happened with Callum was a fluke—and it definitely wouldn’t happen again. I was, at that moment, erasing all traces of him from my life: rifling through my bedroom for every chew-filled soda bottle, every photo, and every “sorry I blew up” gift he’d ever gotten me.

Frankie helped, gleefully pitching items into trash bags and donation bins, while Theo hobbled back and forth in his medical boot, looking unsure of how to help. I was just glad to have him there. It was the perfect reminder of why these things weren’t worth holding onto. He was.

Mom’s concerns didn’t stop until after Callum’s trial. He was found guilty on assault, drug possession, and criminal possession of a firearm, and sentenced to eight years.

His only hope of early release was his lawyer playing the injury card. Allegedly, he had memory loss from his head hitting the edge of Theo’s pool. I’d almost felt sorry for him, until the entire trial passed without so much as an apology.

Rumor had it that he was now a changed man. Clean and sober, God-fearing, and even earning a degree while he served his sentence.

I chose not to trust the rumors. In my mind, a truly changed man would apologize. Not just to me, but to Theo.

It used to infuriate me, until I realized something critical: I didn’t want his apology. I’d received far too many over the years for it to mean anything.

But I didn’t want revenge, either. All I wanted was to leave that part of my past behind, and focus on my future. The one I deserved.

As my sobs strengthened at the thought of my mom going into a home—knowing all she could afford would be one of those cut-rate facilities where death starts looking preferable—Theo pulled into the Park ’N Go of the airport, cut the engine, and drew me into him.

“Hey, shh, it’s okay. Just because she’s looking doesn’t mean she’s going. I won’t let that happen.”

Through my blubbering, I scoffed. My mother’s stubbornness could rival a Durham’s, any day of the week.

Theo paused a moment, then reached into the backseat. “I was going to give you this later,” he said, digging through his luggage, “but I guess now is as good a time as any.”

I sniffed and wiped my eyes with the inside of my shirt collar, dumbfounded by the beautifully wrapped package he placed in my lap. “We agreed on no wedding presents.”

“Then don’t think of it as a wedding present.” He flicked the bow, urging me to hurry up and open it. “Just an ‘I love you’ gift.”

It was a shirt box. Under all the gold-threaded tissue paper, I found only an envelope, too thin to be a card.

Inside was a check, made out to me from him.

“That,” Theo said, “is all the money left in my account that Dad set aside for me, from the day I was born. College, grad school, a house...everything. And it’s the very last money I’m ever accepting from him.”

Speechless, I turned the check over, like memorizing it from enough angles would make me understand its purpose. “So...so why did you withdraw it? For our house?”

With a soft smile, he shook his head, reached out, and pointed to the Memo line.

For your mom.

“I did the math.” He touched my earring: pearl studs, handmade by Clara as a wedding present. “If we invest it well, the dividends will pay for the in-home care she needs.”

Fresh tears blurred his handwriting. I felt too many things at once: pure joy, disbelief...an old, deep-seated kind of shame, as I shoved it back into his hands.

“Theo, no. I can’t accept this.”

“Yes,” he said firmly, pushing it back, “you can. You’re my wife now, Ruby. Your mom is my family. And Durhams take care of our family, no matter what they have to do.”

I started to protest again, but something in his voice stopped me. It wasn’t just how confident he sounded, that steeled tone telling me he was going to make sure I accepted his gift if it was the last thing he did.

There was something else to it—a grittiness, and some kind of exhaustion. Like getting this check had been far harder than I could imagine.

And I knew it wasn’t because his dad made it difficult. Just the opposite, in fact: Gil was probably thrilled Theo asked. And Theo, knowing him, hated himself all the more for doing it.

Six years ago, when Theo and I moved into our first tiny apartment, he declared he was done accepting money from his father. He said he couldn’t promise me anything close to luxury…but that he’d always find a way to give me what I deserved.

As the gravity of this gift hit me, I took back the check and leaned across the console to kiss him. Hard.

I wanted to show him I was grateful. To thank him for that sacrifice: briefly turning into the person he needed to be, not who he wanted to be, so that he could give me the one thing I wanted most.

“Do you know what you’re doing? Like, actually know?”

I lean out from under the sink and slide the wrench to Wes across the linoleum. “Care to try, smartass? You’ve been criticizing me for a good twenty