Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 136791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
I'm glad she never moved on. And I'm a selfish son of a bitch for feeling that way.
"Why did you leave me? Why didn't you come back for me?"
"Fuck." I reach for her, the last of my control gone when her voice breaks on a sob. I drag her body into mine and wrap my arms around her. She fights me the whole way, crying and trying to hit me. Her fist catches the edge of the cut on my arm, making me hiss. I'm so much bigger than she is, though. She doesn't stand a chance of fighting me off. I hold her tightly as she sobs, her entire body shaking with the force of her cries.
And goddamn, it hurts in the best way possible. Having her in my arms feels like coming home. Like I've been dying of thirst for years and finally found a little oasis to slake my thirst. It's not enough. It's not anywhere nearly enough to satisfy me. But it's just enough to keep me alive.
She's falling apart, shattering into pieces in my arms…and all I want to do is keep holding her.
Like I said, I'm a selfish son of a bitch.
Has she cried at all since I destroyed us both?
My eyes meet Mariah's over the top of January's head to see tears slipping silently down her cheeks, and I have my answer. She hasn't. All this time, she's held onto it. She's held onto me.
Why, baby girl?
The mixture of pity and judgment in Mariah's eyes has me quickly averting my gaze. There's not a damn thing she can say to me that I haven't already said to myself a thousand times over the years. I don't need to hear it here and now. When my heart is weighed against a feather, and I'm devoured or cast into Hell or whatever happens to men like me when we die…it won't be little Mariah Dupree doing the weighing and judging.
If anyone has the right to condemn me, it's January.
Eventually, she runs out of steam.
I sweep her up into my arms. She doesn't fight me this time. She curls into me, her tears soaking into my shirt. My muscles go lax, my entire body relaxing at the feel of her in my arms and her sweet scent in my lungs after so long. My nerves are raw, and my heart is fucking bleeding, but I feel more at peace than I have in so long. So, so long.
I feel like I can finally fucking breathe again. As if the tears she cried, she cried for both of us.
Mariah steps aside, allowing me to carry my girl into the house. I keep my head down, not sure I'm strong enough to deal with January and all my memories of this place at the same time. I focus on her instead, watching the way her chest rises and falls. She's already asleep, but tears still slip down her cheeks.
I carry her into her bedroom and lay her on the bed. Her hands are so twisted up in my shirt that I have to pry them off me one at a time. When I finally do, she whimpers in her sleep and curls up in a little ball like she's trying to make herself disappear. The sight tears at my soul.
I pull her blanket up over her and then because I'm a bastard and I can't help myself, I lean down and kiss her cheek. Her skin is as soft as ever. Her sugary vanilla scent fills my lungs to bursting and I know I have to get the fuck out of here now. If I don't, I'm going to lose it.
"Take care of her," I rasp to Mariah, who's standing in the doorway. Without waiting for her answer, I flee like the fucking coward I am.
Chapter Four
Cade
Then - Age Sixteen
"Please, please, please," January pleads, her hands clasped like she's praying, and those big, hopeful green eyes turned on Titan. She pokes her bottom lip out and bounces on the balls of her feet, causing her ponytail to sway back and forth. "Please, Titan."
"No way." He crosses his arms over his chest to scowl down at his little sister. "I'm not dressing up in tights just so you can run around in a tutu and wings all night."
"But it's Peter Pan and Tinkerbell!" January argues, stomping her foot.
"Nope," Titan says, holding his ground.
"I'll be your best friend forever," she says, refusing to give up.
"I've already got a best friend." Titan jerks his thumb in my direction.
"But–"
"Not happening, baby sister."
January's face falls into a sad mask of dejection, her shoulders slumping. She drops back down to her heels, eyeing the green and yellow Tinkerbell costume like it's the most adorable thing she's ever seen.
I press my palm to my heart and rub, trying to ease the way it aches at the sad look on her face.