Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
“Benny told us what happened. I was so worried. Are you okay?” I whisper.
“No,” he whispers against my ear. “But I’m better now.”
I don’t move, loving his lips against my ear, and the warmth of him sends me to the moon. I’m so much smaller than him, and being in his arms makes me feel like a doll.
“Owen,” I hear Mrs. Adler say, and I almost pull out of the hug, but Aviva taught me at a young age—when you think someone needs a hug, you don’t let go until they do. Our mom used to tell her that. “Owen, come on.”
Owen grumbles something, but I can’t hear him over my own pounding heartbeat. “I would have called,” I find myself saying, and Evan nods.
“But we didn’t exchange numbers yet,” he finishes, gathering me closer. “I couldn’t find your Instagram.”
“I messaged yours, but you didn’t open it,” I say softly. “I think it went to your Others folder or whatever.”
“I haven’t been on,” he explains. “I’ve been sleeping all day.”
He pulls back first but not far enough to break our embrace. He looks down at me and then moves a piece of hair out of my face. “I’m sorry.”
I don’t like that he’s apologizing, and I know my face tells him so. “Evan, don’t. You don’t owe me an apology, what with everything that has happened.”
“That’s not true. I didn’t handle any of this well, and that’s on me.”
“From what I hear, it’s been a lot for you.”
“It has. But still, you gave me an incredible night, and I feel like I let you down.”
“Evan, stop. I understand. It all got out of hand. No big deal.”
His eyes burn into mine, and I know he has so much to say. “You’re being too understanding. You deserve better.”
I don’t even blink as I gaze into his eyes. “I know my worth, Evan.”
His jaw clenches as he slides his hand along my neck, rubbing his thumb over my jaw. I almost think he’s going to kiss me, the way his eyes move from mine to my lips and back, but instead, he asks, “Do you have time to talk?”
Every fiber of my being fires off. “Only if you’re up to it.”
“I don’t know that I am, but I don’t want you to leave.”
“I won’t. We can just hang. We don’t have to talk,” I say, my voice low and gentle.
I don’t want to push him, and I don’t need answers. I came here to make sure he was safe, but like him, I don’t want to leave yet. I want to be with him. He lets go of my hip, lacing our fingers together. Then he pulls away, separating us and guiding me through the living room to a hallway. Like his room on campus, his family home is a gallery of family photos. His family and more cover the walls. Along the stairs are photos of each of the kids. Evan’s older sisters with their spouses at their weddings, Owen with Angie in some kind of flower garden, Evan in his IceCats gear, and his youngest brother at graduation, I assume.
When we reach the top of the stairs, I see a bunch of black-and-white photos of a rather hefty pug. “Oh, look at him.”
Evan grins at the family pet. “That’s Adler. He was my mom’s dog before she met my dad.”
“Then how was he named Adler?”
“Mom was a fan of my dad before she met him. He was the star defensemen for the team she co-owned. Now she owns it outright. Nashville Assassins, I assume you know that.”
I nod. “I do, and I know who your dad is.”
He gives me a look. “Mmm-hmm.”
“What? I told you I know hockey.”
“A little more than you’ve let on,” he says, pulling me along.
“What does that mean?” I ask, and he shrugs. I don’t push, though. I’m too distracted by the many guitars on the wall. They’re all different types, colors, and shapes. Super neat.
“Do you play? I noticed you had some in your room.”
“I do. Owen plays a bit but not as well, and then Shelli plays. We’re the only two out of the five siblings who can play more than one instrument,” he says, but he doesn’t say it proudly. Kinda offhandedly and like it doesn’t matter.
“What else do you play?”
“Piano, violin, and a mean-ass harmonica.”
I grin, wholeheartedly impressed. “Evan, that’s fucking cool. You should just walk around with a guitar and be like, ‘Yup. Let me play you a song ’cause I’m so fucking cool.’”
He chuckles. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Because everyone can play?”
“I could be lying.”
I eye him. “Are you?”
“No. But really, it’s not a big deal,” he says, shrugging.
“Because you don’t play hockey?” I ask, and he looks away, answering me without saying a word. I want to yell at him that there is so much more to him than hockey, but I’m sure his family has told him the same. Just the fact that he is here, healing from his panic attack today, shows how much his family loves him. It’s not only about the convenience of them living here; they wouldn’t want him anywhere else. Owen flew in as soon as he got word, and according to Aviva, the family is worried.