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)
“Universal love. It gives off feelings of love, acceptance, and caring.”
Normally, I’d laugh off this type of talk, but the way her eyes sparkle like sapphires makes me want to take what she says as gospel. I’ve never known anything about crystals, and she’s also one of the smartest women on the planet, so perhaps there is some merit to this thing. I close my fist around the rock, trying to channel the energy into my body.
I sit there, staring at the small crystal in my hand, waiting for… something. Anything. But nothing happens.
“Does it take a bit of time?” I ask, my tone teasing but curious.
Tory glances up at me from her seat on the couch, her expression soft and thoughtful. “It’s not a magic crystal,” she says with a small smile, her voice gentle but sure. “I think when people know the meaning of the crystals, it opens them up to allowing just that into their lives. Like, when they wear a pink crystal, it’s not the crystal itself doing anything—it’s them. It makes them more open, more willing to accept love into their world.”
Her words hit me harder than I expect, settling deep in my chest like a stone dropped into still water. More open to love.
It’s not just what she says, but the way she says it—with so much quiet certainty, like she knows exactly what she’s talking about. Like she believes it.
I stare at her, the warmth in her blue eyes, the way her fingers trace the edges of the crystal in her lap. She’s not just talking about anyone wearing a pink crystal. She’s talking about herself.
And maybe… maybe she’s talking about me too.
Before I even realize what I’m doing, I lean forward, cupping her face gently in my hands. Her skin is soft and warm under my touch, and her eyes widen slightly as I tilt her chin up.
“Tory,” I murmur, my voice low and rough, the words catching in my throat. “I want to be with you.”
I close the distance before she can respond, capturing her lips with mine in a kiss that’s slow and deep, filled with every emotion I’ve been holding back. Her hands slide up to rest on my arms, her fingers curling against my skin, and for a moment, the world fades away.
When I pull back, her eyes are wide, her cheeks flushed. Her lips part slightly, and she stares at me like she can’t quite believe what she just heard.
“You… you want to be with me?” she whispers, her voice trembling.
I nod, brushing my thumb over her cheek. “I do.”
A smile spreads across her face, small at first, but then it grows, lighting up her entire expression. Her blue eyes shimmer with unshed tears as she whispers back, “I want that too.”
“Say it again,” I say, my voice thick with emotion.
“I want to be with you too,” she says, her voice steadier this time.
“Again,” I whisper, leaning closer, desperate to hear it.
“I want to be with you,” she repeats, her hands sliding up to rest on my chest, right over my heart.
My heart feels like it might explode in my chest, each beat hammering against her touch. I press my forehead against hers, my eyes closing as I let the meaning of her words sink in.
She keeps saying it, over and over, each time softer, sweeter, like she’s weaving the words into my very soul.
And with every repetition, I know one thing for certain—this woman has changed everything. She’s not just in my life now; she is my life. My heart, my world, my future.
I don’t know what tomorrow holds, but as long as I have her, I’ll face anything.
The morning light filters into the room, but it doesn’t feel like morning. It feels heavy, like the calm before a storm. Tory lies curled against me, her breathing soft and steady, but I can feel the tension humming just beneath the surface. It matches the knot that’s been twisting in my gut since last night.
“It’s getting late,” I murmur, running my hand gently along her arm. “We should get up.”
She stirs, letting out a sleepy groan as she stretches. “It’s still early,” she mumbles, her voice thick with sleep.
I glance at the clock and sit up, scrubbing a hand over my face. “It’s almost noon,” I tell her, but my words feel hollow as another thought crashes into me.
Something’s wrong.
Her father hasn’t called.
“Tory,” I say, my voice sharper than I intend. “Your father hasn’t called. He didn’t call last night either.”
Her head snaps up, and the sleepiness vanishes from her eyes in an instant. “Where’s my phone?” she asks, already sliding out from under the covers and scanning the room.
Good question. Where’s my phone?
I slide out of bed, padding through the living room and into the kitchen. Shit. “Fourteen missed calls from Dean,” I whisper into the air.