Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 116031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
“I’ll have to find a place to pull over.”
I grip the door with one hand and press to the seat with the other. “I’m going to be sick.”
Shane pulls off the main road, parking just off the edge of a turnoff. I pop the door and run to the nearest bushes and bend over. The fresh air settles my racing thoughts, the solid ground helping with my stomach. I plant my hands on my hips, standing back up.
In through the nose. Out through my mouth. In. Out. In. Out.
I don’t know if it’s the confirmation that he didn’t care or the change in altitude. Either way, I’ll need more time to recover.
After a few more deep breaths, I turn around to find him standing on this side of the Ferrari. He looks at me, and says, “We were heated. We argued. When I left, I didn’t know it would be forever.”
I cover my mouth, disappointed that I’m even crying. I hate feeling powerless, but I do with him. “Then why didn’t you come back?”
“Because I loved you too much.”
“What does that mean, Shane?” I shout across the short distance as anger fills me. “You loved me too much, so you hurt me?”
“I loved you too much, so I saved you from being with me.”
I throw my arms in the air, frustrated. “That makes no sense.” Walking away from him and the car, from this conversation . . . argument or whatever it is. The gravel crunches under my sneakers, the wind blowing against my dress and pushing my hair behind my shoulders. I keep walking because I need the distance to clear my head.
Forty-eight hours of this.
Damn him.
Staying steady on the one-lane road, I walk until the tears dry and my resentment tempers. I stay close to the line of trees but keep my feet on the edge of concrete.
I stop when my blood pressure has lowered along with my anger. The bear crossing sign also alarms me. I’ve gone far enough. I turn around to find Shane right there with me all along. Twenty feet back. Smart enough to give me distance and enough room to allow me to work through my feelings
He says, “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“You didn’t say anything.”
“I was here when you were ready.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “What if I’m never ready, Shane?”
“I’ll still be here.”
Everything he says feels real, and the pain in my heart lessens from hearing the words. But seeing him and not asking anything from me but my presence has me wondering what he needs to close the door on us. If not that night, then forever.
Forty-eight hours.
At the rate we’re going, I’m about to find out.
25
Shane
We rode for the past forty-five minutes in silence.
She had just as much to think about as I did. We ripped off the bandage, but it didn’t stop the bleeding like I had wanted. My apology should have been the tourniquet she needed, but it didn’t help. Did I make it worse instead?
Getting it out in the open seemed the way to go and get through this. It’s my fault for assuming it would be easy, all would be forgiven, and we’d be spending the weekend together instead of feeling the distance between us now. Despite having only a foot separating us in the car, where does that leave us?
How have I already fucked this up so royally?
Anger rolls off her in stages, slipping across the leather console. I caused that. I’ll take the hit if it will make her feel better. I’m not sure if anything will, but I’m willing to try. There’s nothing left to lose when I’ve already lost her. So I can sit and stew on how to move forward, break the ice, and get us back on the path of a second chance. Or I can make the effort. Fuck it. Nothing to lose, I repeat in my head.
I shift my car from manual to automatic and reach over, slipping my hand under hers that’s resting on her leg. She yanks it away to her chest. “What are you doing, Shane?”
“I want to hold your hand.”
Her blinks are erratic, her brows tugging together, but her mouth and the roundness of her lips when they part capture my attention. I miss those lips so fucking much. She has a stubborn streak that keeps her feisty. I like the fight in her, but I know it doesn’t come from nowhere. I ask, “May I hold your hand, Cat?”
“No.” From her immediate response, I’m certain she didn’t give the idea a chance.
Slow down, Faris. I don’t have to rush with her. She likes to take it slow. I can do slow if it’s with her. I rest mine between us with my palm facing up—an offer if she wants to take it on her terms instead of mine.