Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 138541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 554(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 554(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
At first I felt awkward but now I feel relaxed, almost as if I could fall asleep resting against him as he moves us back and forth. I close my eyes and allow myself this moment of peace. I allow myself this moment of emotion and feeling.
“You’re a good dancer.” I say softly, still moving with him in perfect synchrony.
He smiles slightly, almost as if wanting to withhold the glee he feels at my words. “I’ve never danced.”
What? “Never?” I almost choke. He can’t be serious.
“I’ve never done much of anything. I’ve watched a lot of TV and movies though.” He gives a small shrug, looking almost embarrassed by this admission.
“Huh, I can’t even tell. So… what made you decide to try it now?”
He pales and I can almost see the cogs working in his head. Letting out a long breath, he looks up to the ceiling for a moment. “When I was a young boy, I never had the desire to do much of anything.” I can imagine. I keep the pity from shining through my eyes for fear of destroying this moment. “It was the same when I was growing. I felt better secluding myself from people, for fear of them looking through me and seeing the truth.”
“The truth?”
“The truth of what I was allowing my grandfather to do to me.” He clears his throat and runs his tongue over his lower lip for a moment. I remain silent, waiting for him to continue even though his words make no sense. He wasn’t allowing his grandfather to do anything. Does he truly believe his own words? He continues. “I thought I was happy, wallowing in my own pity and loathing. The loathing was so fierce that I began to hate the world, not only myself and my grandfather.”
“Go on.” I prompt kindly, letting him know I’m listening and not judging in any way.
“It turns out, I’d never even felt happiness, never let myself feel it. Until recently.”
I can’t stop the smile that comes forth, nor can I stop the assumption. “Dillan?”
“No.” He whispers and my heart drops. “You.”
My heart soars. I press my forehead to his neck again and inhale deeply. I fit so perfectly here. He always smells so fresh and clean; it’s soothing. “When?”
He doesn’t answer, only pulls my hand back to his chest and holds it there, still rocking me to the gentle tune. “Thank you for forgiving me. Everything I’ve done…”
“Hey.” I cut him off, my brows pushing together. “I get it. Please don’t apologise. I should never have given up on you. I never should have walked away, even when you forced me to.”
“I’m glad you did.”
“What?”
“If you hadn’t, I might not have realised just how much I now crave human contact. Your contact.” Gulp. “Physical and emotional. You bring out a part in me that never existed.”
Eye roll. “It always existed; it just needed a little coaxing to the surface.”
“You never gave up on me, not fully. I know that now, but at the time it felt like you were. Even though I was the one to push you away, part of me died when you left and didn’t return.” He runs the back of his knuckles over my cheek. Our bodies have stopped moving to the rhythm, but my heart only seems to beat to a faster tempo. “You have no idea how much you mean to me.”
My breath catches. I remain silent, allowing him this moment and gentle touch.
“I don’t even have an idea of how much you mean to me.” He laughs lightly, his frustration over something I’m unsure of abundantly clear. “I’ll never hurt you again. Not intentionally. It’s just that… I was so ashamed of how I behaved and ashamed of my past, I thought you’d hate me and I got used to that. So I kept trying to push you away, out of protectiveness or out of embarrassment, I’m not sure, but I don’t want to anymore.”
Turning my face into his soothing caress, I close my eyes and absorb this moment, willing it to stay put in my memory forever. “I know. And… umm… ditto.”
He chuckles, his lips lightly skimming my temple. “Come. You need your rest. I’ll escort you to your mum’s.”
Oh… right, the other thing I noticed. “Why do you always say ‘to my mum’s’? It’s my place too.”
“No it isn’t.” I’m pretty certain it is. “Your home is with me.”
“Are you…?”
“I’m not getting ahead of myself; I’m merely stating a fact. Or maybe I’m stating it the wrong way around.” He dips his head, his nose running along the side of mine. “My home is with you and Dillan.”
Why does most of me agree? I shouldn’t be agreeing. “We do make a rather good team.”
“That we do. I want you to come back.” That sweet vulnerability shines through. I love seeing this side of Nathan, but I also hate it because he’s no longer guarded and I get a glimpse of the sweet child inside that never got to be.