Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 81986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
“Oh wow.” Standing in the doorway, he licked his lower lip while breathing hard. “There’s a mural.”
He took a tentative step into the room painted sky blue. Along the longest wall, we’d painted the outline of a cityscape.
“It’s chalk paint,” I explained, pointing to a bucket of colorful chalk hanging from a hook. “It was Knox’s idea. That way, the kids can add their own touches to it, like windows and trees and signs. Whatever they dream up.”
“I like it.” He leaned against the wooden bunk bed on the opposite wall. “And I always did want one of these. Would have made for easier sleepovers.”
“Yeah.” My voice was still thicker than a premium mattress and about as dense. I wanted to reach for him, but I wasn’t sure which of us might shatter first if I did.
Worth drifted out of the room, heading past the remodeled bathroom with its double sinks to the former primary suite, the one place I hadn’t been able to imagine living myself. As soon as Cal had proposed the attic idea, I’d known exactly what I wanted to do with this room instead of occupying it myself.
“If you like bunk beds, you might like this.” I took a fortifying breath as I reached past him to open the door. “The room is so huge that we were able to make it a quad with double bunks, and then this room has its own bathroom too.”
“Bright.” Gazing around at the apricot-colored walls, he crossed the room to peek into the en suite yellow bathroom, where we’d gone with a fun beach theme with surfboard curtains. “Never realized how big the room was. Or light. Three windows. Wow.”
He sunk down in front of the row of bunks. “I’m shaking, and I don’t even know why.”
“I am too.” Plopping down next to him, I held out my own hands. “It’s okay if you hate the room. Or if it makes you angry. Whatever you feel. It’s okay.”
“I don’t feel much of anything.” He ran his hands through his hair, sunlight catching the golden strands. “And that’s good. I used to be so afraid of that door. I wasn’t supposed to wake them up if I couldn’t sleep.”
“Oh, Worth.” It was me. I was going to be the first to cry.
“And I wasn’t allowed in here to play, so I have only hazy memories of the room. Big bed. Pink floral spread. Dark walls and wood furniture. Big pieces. Dreary. This is…this is good.” Exhaling what sounded like forty years of pent-up breaths, he rubbed his knees. “Good. This is good. It’s going to make some kids really, really happy.”
“I hope so.” And I hoped he’d be there by my side, but rather than voice that wish, I settled for taking both his hands in mine, holding them tightly.
“And I want to believe my parents were happy here. Both of them. At least some of the time? They had to be, right?” He pressed his lips tightly together.
“I remember them happy.” I’d only ever seen their public-facing selves, but if it would help Worth, I’d share my memories too. “Your dad making your mom laugh at a Fourth of July barbeque. Her touching his sleeve or neck. I know their relationship was complicated, but I think there were happy moments.”
“Yeah.” He let his head fall forward onto my shoulder. “There were happy moments. I’m working on remembering. Dad and I making pancakes while Mom slept in. Dad teaching me how to drive and not telling Mom when he let me speed on the back roads, and Mom doing the exact same thing. Holidays. Dad saying, ‘That’s my girl,’ when she’d bring out the turkey. Yeah. Happy. Not always. But it was there.”
“That’s good.” I held him close. “Not that the bad didn’t exist, but it’s okay to shift your focus from the hard times to the good.”
“You’re talented at that.” He gave me a damp smile, not crying exactly, but his eyes were teary and red.
“Seeing the bright side?” I kissed the top of his head.
“Yeah. I need to do that more.” Tilting his head up, he ghosted a kiss across my mouth. “Thank you. I…just thank you.”
“What do you need now, Worth?” I asked softly. I thought I knew, but I wanted to hear it from him.
“You. I need you. Give me some more good memories. Upstairs. In our room. Please?”
“My pleasure.” Standing, I extended a hand to help him up. Our room. My whole body was thrilled with his words. There truly wasn’t much I wouldn’t do for this man, but the way he needed me was like catnip for my soul. A thing I’d craved and never even known about. Worth wanting me was wonderful, but him needing me was absolutely intoxicating. “Let’s go.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Worth
Maybe it wasn’t fair to Sam, the way I used sex to buffer uncomfortable emotions. But right then, confronted with all the changes to the second floor as well as the things that triggered lingering memories, I wanted Sam to put me right again.