Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 46078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 230(@200wpm)___ 184(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 230(@200wpm)___ 184(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
She sighs softly, wrapping her arms around herself, though I’m not sure if it’s the chill or the weight of something on her mind. “Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever find peace like this.”
Her words catch me off guard, and I tilt my head toward her. “What do you mean?”
She glances up at me, those blue eyes of hers deep and reflective, like she’s looking straight into my soul. “It’s hard to explain,” she says softly. “Growing up with my dad, it was always about work. Research. Innovation. My life was science, but it never felt like mine. I’ve spent so long trying to be someone he can be proud of, I don’t even know what it means to be proud of myself.”
Her voice cracks slightly on the last word, and something in my chest tightens.
“I don’t think he realizes it,” she continues, staring back at the waves. “He doesn’t mean to… I don’t know… overshadow me. But sometimes it feels like I don’t exist outside of his world.”
I don’t know what to say at first. I’ve never met anyone like Tory—someone so brilliant and full of life, yet so unsure of her place in the world. I take a breath and let my words come naturally.
“You’re wrong, you know,” I say, my voice steady.
She looks up at me, surprised. “What?”
“You do exist outside of him. Outside of anyone.” I hold her gaze, wanting her to hear me—really hear me. “Your father might be proud of you, and he should be, but you’re more than his shadow. You’re… you. You’re smart. Kind. Talented.” I gesture toward the delicate bracelet she’s wearing, one I watched her finish yesterday. “You take little pieces of the world and turn them into something beautiful. That’s not something anyone can teach. That’s you.”
Her lips part, and for a moment, she doesn’t say anything. A faint blush creeps up her cheeks, and she hugs her arms tighter to herself. “I don’t know if anyone’s ever said something like that to me.”
“Well, it’s true,” I reply simply. “You just need to see it for yourself.”
She smiles faintly, like she doesn’t quite believe me but wants to. “What about you?” she asks, turning the question on me. “What makes you proud of yourself?”
The question surprises me, and I shift slightly, shoving my hands into my pockets. “I don’t know,” I admit. “I’ve spent so much time protecting other people, I’ve never really thought about myself. As long as the job’s done and they’re safe, that’s enough for me.”
“That’s not enough,” she says quietly, her voice soft but firm. “You deserve more than that.”
I look at her, this woman who’s known me for such a short time yet somehow sees straight through me. Her words linger, sinking into parts of me I didn’t know were hollow.
“Maybe,” I murmur.
She steps closer, her shoulder brushing against mine again, and her voice drops to a whisper. “You’re more than just a protector, Ranger.”
Her words settle over me like a weight, and for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel empty.
We stand there for a while longer, neither of us speaking, just listening to the waves crash and the breeze sweep through the quiet night. Finally, she sighs and glances toward the house. “I should call my dad. He’ll worry if I don’t check in.”
“Go ahead,” I say softly, stepping aside so she can head inside. “I’ll wait out here.”
She hesitates, her gaze lingering on me like she wants to say something more, but then she nods. “I’ll be quick.”
I watch her disappear up the wooden stairs and into the house, the glow of the interior lights spilling out onto the beach.
I lean against the railing of the lanai, my eyes fixed on the dark horizon as I wait for her to finish. The conversation we just had replays in my head, every word, every glance, every breath.
I’ve spent my life believing that attachments are dangerous—that they make you vulnerable. But Tory isn’t a weakness. She’s a light. And for the first time, I find myself wanting something more. Something real.
The screen door creaks open behind me, and I turn to see her stepping out onto the lanai. Her hair is slightly windblown, her glasses perched low on her nose, and she looks softer somehow.
“Everything okay?” I ask, my voice low.
She nods, smiling faintly. “Yeah. My dad’s fine. He’s still working, as usual.”
I push off the railing and take a step toward her. “Good.”
She stops a few feet in front of me, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her sundress. “Thank you for earlier,” she says quietly, her eyes lifting to meet mine. “For saying what you did.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” I reply, stepping closer until there’s barely any space between us. “I just told you the truth.”