Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 39424 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 197(@200wpm)___ 158(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39424 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 197(@200wpm)___ 158(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
I try to breathe through it, but I can forget holding back the tears. They’re coming quickly now, and I don’t even try to wipe them from my face. “This is killing me, Elias. Can’t you see that? You hurt me, and every time you come around—and still don’t talk to me—you hurt me again.”
His hands fist at his sides, but that’s the only reaction I get. I would rather him yell, scream, something, anything besides just stand there with his back to me.
I try to calm myself, but I’m too far down this path to stop now. I’m literally shaking from all the emotions crashing together inside of me. “You took my virginity. You made me feel like I was special to you and that I was more than just a one-night stand, and when you left—” I shudder in a breath. “And when you left, I thought you were coming back to me. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel? You left me… and you never looked back.”
My heart is pounding so hard I would take bets he can hear it. There’s the sound of a car horn on the main street in town. I can hear laughter coming from down the alley as the back door of the Sugar Bakery opens up, and it reminds me that even now, life goes on. Yes, I’m hurt. Yes, I’m devastated, and even though I thought I was ready to move on, I’m obviously not. I need some kind of closure or something.
I just don’t think I’m going to get it today.
I’m so choked up with emotion, but I force the words out. “Please leave me alone, Elias. If you’re not going to talk to me, please just let me go and quit following me. Please.”
Still nothing.
I turn on my heel and walk back into the restaurant. Instead of going to the table, I go into the ladies room, and thank goodness that no one is in here because there’s no way I can explain the uncontrollable sobs wracking through my body.
I do my best to pull myself together because whether I like it or not, I’m on a date with a nice man that doesn’t deserve any of this.
CHAPTER 4
ELIAS
All I had to do was talk to her. That’s it.
I could have said something… anything. Hell, I should have started with ‘I’m sorry,’ but I was frozen. Physically, I couldn’t move. I was so caught up in having her near me and hearing my name on her lips that I lost all train of thought. I wanted to run away, but at the same time I wanted to turn, pull her against me, and hold her like she was mine.
I’m a fool for ever coming back here. I should have known that I couldn’t come back to Whiskey Run and stay away from Chloe. I stupidly tried to convince myself that I had to come here because this is where the job for Walker is, but I could do this job from anywhere. I didn’t have to come back to Whiskey Run to do it.
“So, Elias, how have you been since your last appointment?”
My head is down in my hands, my elbows planted on my knees, and even though I’m in the middle of a therapy appointment, I can’t forget last night and the sound of Chloe pleading with me.
For the first time ever, I’m honest to the therapist. “Not good.”
She gasps, and I don’t have to look at her to know she’s surprised. Therapy is a requirement. You work here at the rehab center, Walker requires you to do therapy. Not only do it, but participate in it. And since I got here, I have shown up at my appointments but haven’t said a word until today.
I can hear her shift in her seat, and I imagine she’s sitting up a little taller. The pad of paper in her hands crinkles, and she’s probably documenting the fact that I finally said something.
“Why?” Dr. Kline asks me.
I’m quiet, not sure how to answer, when she continues. “Please, don’t stop now, Elias. You know the rules, and you’ve reached the limit. You have to start participating in therapy.”
I sigh and clasp my hands together in front of me. “Chloe talked to me yesterday, and there’s so much I need to say to her and explain, but I couldn’t say a damn word. I froze up.”
She’s flipping through the pages of my file. There are extensive doctors’ notes in there from my many injuries, surgeries, rehabilitation notes, and everything. But I know she’s not going to find what she’s looking for. She won’t find anything in there about Chloe.
After a little more shuffling, she asks softly, “Who’s Chloe?”
I don’t hesitate in telling her exactly who Chloe is. “She’s the love of my life. She’s the reason I survived the injuries five years ago. She’s the reason I survived the bombing two years ago, and she’s the reason I came back to Whiskey Run. She’s… everything.”