Page 32 of The Sculptor

Congressman Ford levels me with a look he reserves for the people he feels are beneath him. “Don’t let your brothers suffer for your mistakes, son. You’ve ruined enough lives already. Don’t make me take theirs to settle the score.”

The congressman would never threaten murder, but I picked up the translation loud and clear. My brothers are at an Ivy League school. They are my father’s pride and joy. One call from the congressman and their dreams of becoming plastic surgeons will vanish. No college will accept them if Congressman Ford makes a call. I’ve seen it before.

“I’m not a forgiving man, Duke. There are more ways to punish you if this isn’t enough incentive.”

His eyes track to his daughter in my arms. He has no problem using her as a pawn. Her being used was why we ran away in the first place. I have no doubt he won’t hesitate to use her again.

“I can’t breathe,” Ramsey pants out between choppy breaths, drawing my attention back to her. “It hurts too much.”

I wouldn’t know—I haven’t been able to feel anything since the screams started hours ago.

I couldn’t feel my heart beating erratically or the grime on my hands.

Even now, as Ramsey’s tears soak my shirt, I don’t feel the wetness.

The coldness in my veins is the only reminder that I am still breathing.

“It won’t always hurt,” I promise Ray, smoothing a hand down her back. “As long as we remember, it won’t hurt as much.”

She nods her head. “I won’t forget. I promise. I’ll never forget.”

It was then that Congressman Ford ripped her from my arms and shuffled her through the back exit of the hospital.

My father waits until they are out of sight, and then he levels me with a glare filled with nothing but hatred and threatens, “You will not speak of this. Not to your mother or your brothers. You will do as you’re told while I clean up your mess. Do I make myself clear, Duke?”

The words sound like they come from someone else, but it’s my voice I hear when I agree. “Yes, sir.”

“You have disappointed this family for the last time.”

“Dude.” Remington shakes me, but I can’t stay on my feet and slide to the floor, crushing the note in my hands. Vaguely, I hear Remington’s voice worriedly talking on the phone—likely telling my brother I’ve lost it.

Maybe I have.

But the fact remains.

She didn’t forget.

I asked her to keep our love alive.

Because I couldn’t.

I failed us.

So, I asked her to remember a winter I vowed to forget.

A winter that killed my soul.

The winter where I became a liar.

Ramsey

“Iwant four kids.”

Duke’s brows rise. “Four? Is my handsome face not enough for the rest of your life? You want me pent-up and broke, too?”

I laugh and point at him with my paintbrush. “I have faith you’ll find a way to bang me with four children in the house. And we won’t be broke because you’ll be an amazing doctor by then.”

Duke eyes me curiously, pulling the sucker from his mouth in this super sexy way that screams naughty promises. “And what if I don’t want any children?” He sits on his elbows, his suit coat and shirt open, exposing his chest with the painting I just finished. “What if I want to keep you all to myself?”

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