Perfect (Beautifully Broken Love #1) by Kady Hunt

Author:Kady Hunt [Hunt, Kady]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B01BQGGEJM
Published: 2016-03-04T00:00:00+00:00

19.

JAMIE

Holden pulls me inside a room. It’s a big, lavish study which used to belong to his dad, well, step-dad to be exact. The room is no ordinary room though. It’s got all kinds of Old Masters’ paintings and the walls are lined with books. It’s so overwhelming in there I’m almost afraid to touch anything.

“My dad used to sit here all day,” Holden reminisces. “Sometimes, he would let me sit with him so we could go over the history of these painters and other times he would ask me to read a passage from his favorite book,” Holden says and takes out a copy of The Count of Monte Cristo from the shelves and touches it’s leather binding. After just touching the front for a long time, he finally opens it to a specific page. “...The friends we have lost do not repose under the ground...they are buried deep in our hearts. It has been thus ordained that they may always accompany us...” He’s running a gentle hand over the page. “This was his favorite passage. I must have stood right here and read it to him a million times, but he never got tired of it.”

“Looks like you never got tired of it either,” I say.

He places the book back, as carefully as he had taken it out. “Anyway,” Holden says. “He did the same until the day he died. Even when he was in a wheelchair for years.”

“Why was he in a wheelchair?”

“My dad had a stroke,” Holden explains. “He lost all feeling on one side of his body. My mom used to take care of him. But the doctors told us it was only a matter of time.”

“Was your step-dad a lot older than your mom?”

“Twice her age,” Holden replies. “But my mom’s never really denied that she married him for money. But I don’t know, I think that they did have love, even if they didn’t always admit it to each other. Maybe they just didn’t know, or were too proud to admit that they had those feelings towards someone but I saw that love around me all of my childhood.”

“You really loved your dad, huh.”

“Well, he loved me. So I kind of had no choice.”

“You love both your parents,” I say. “That’s nice.”

“Don’t you?” he asks. “Love your parents?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it love.”

“Then what would you call it?”

“I don’t know,” I say. “Familiarity. A need to feel a certain bond because well, they gave birth to me.”

“That’s harsh.”

“Not really,” I say. “It’s not as if I hate them.”

“But you told me yourself, that indifference is the opposite of love. So, do you feel indifferent?”

“Honestly,” I say. “They’ve never made enough of an effort to care about my life and it just got worse when high school was over and I was no longer living with them. So, it’s not like I had a hand in the choice, but I just don’t feel anything, I can’t help it,” I pause and look at him.

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