Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
“I’m glad, because I bet you’re heavy. Do you know what I was thinking, just before the branch snapped? It might be terrible to say.”
He opens his eyes, his gaze sharp. Focused. So no new head injury. No delirium. “Tell me anyway.”
“I was thinking that it was no surprise that my dad left my mother. I can’t agree with the way he did it, abandoning me and my sister. And there’s no excuse for cheating. But escaping my mom? I get it.”
“Heh. I’ve never blamed my mom for leaving my dad, either. I sure as fuck couldn’t live with him.” His expression softens. “This time, you had to escape.”
“It’s not the first time I did—though things weren’t as bad before. But I was out of there after high school. Started doing things I wanted to do. Including Christmas, though that was just one thing of many. Escaping here…it’s not really about Christmas at all.”
“No?”
“No. I could have stayed and did all kinds of Christmassy stuff. After I started working for Harris, I’ve mostly spent the holidays backing him up at work events and charity fundraisers, though I also did the tree and lights and all that at my house. And I like the season, don’t get me wrong, but celebrating at home wasn’t super important. Last year, though…it was all the shit from when I was a kid all over again. But worse, because I knew what freedom was like. And this year…I just couldn’t bear the thought of being there. Every night after work, the last year and a half, I’d come home to them, and it seemed like everything good and happy inside me was being sucked away. I just didn’t have enough left for anyone else. Even the usual stuff with Harris was sucking everything away, too. But it could have been any time of year. I just…hit my limit. So I decided to do this for myself. Just for myself. Does that sound selfish?”
“No. Selfish is when it deliberately hurts someone who doesn’t deserve to be hurt. You’re not hurting anyone.” His warm gaze searches my face. “You say you’re usually with Harris over the holidays, but that’s work. What about other friends?”
“They’re mostly all from work, too. But even them…there’s no one I’m really close to. It’s difficult being that open with someone.” Yet, here I am. Lying on a branch in the snow, spilling my guts to Reed Knowles.
His brow arches as if he had a similar thought. Yet, here she is. “Then I’ll be your friend.”
I’m always blindsided with him. “You can’t. We’re already sworn enemies.”
“A sworn enemy here to ruin your Christmas,” he says with a little grin. “Now tell me what your perfect Christmas looks like so I know what to ruin.”
Warmth spills through me. I know he’s not asking to ruin it. He wants to know so that he can help me have it. “Honestly, there’s nothing in particular. I got all of the dinner trappings, but mostly because I could and I wanted to cook.” I finger the fir needles flattened in front of me. “I don’t care about the tree specifically, but I do love the smell and how the greenery looks. Mostly I just wanted to enjoy something without being made to feel like shit for enjoying it.”
“And you thought, with someone named Knowles around, I’d be one more person tearing you down.”
My throat thick, I whisper, “Yes.”
“I’ll promise you this, Abbie.” He traces my cheek with a gloved finger while his gaze holds mine. “Nothing I ever say will be meant to hurt you. If you aren’t sure how to take something, ask me. Yeah? And I’ll make sure you get the Christmas you need.”
My eyes blur and I nod. But I refuse to cry again. I blink away the welling tears and find his gaze on my mouth. My stomach tightens. Is he thinking of kissing me?
Do I want him to kiss me? Just because he’s been so unexpectedly nice?
It would be more nice of him to kiss me. Though maybe a little rough, with all that stubble shadowing his jaw. It’s almost heavy enough now to be called a beard, framing his mouth and emphasizing the firm shape of his lips.
“Abbie?”
“Hmm?” I say, a little distracted because his stubble is good hairy. And I don’t mind rough. Rough can be very, very nice.
“I’m going to kiss you tomorrow.”
My heart gives a wild thump. Then— “Tomorrow?”
“Yes.” He’s wearing that little smile again.
“What’s wrong with now?”
“I want you to think about it for a while first.”
“As some kind of torture?” I narrow my eyes. “This is why we’ll remain enemies.”
His grin widens. “You want me to kiss you now?”
“Hardly.” With a dramatic sigh, I flop onto my back. “But if you do it tomorrow, I’m sure to be disappointed after so much buildup. How can reality live up to the anticipation?”