Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 164838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 824(@200wpm)___ 659(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 824(@200wpm)___ 659(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
“Between the two of you, you’re definitely driving me into an early grave.”
“Okay, second question.” I kissed his nose, the cotton of his mask fuzzy against my lips. “Why did you decide to help me? Why go out of your way to put up with my nightmares, my panic attacks, and all the other baggage I’ve been dragging around? And don’t give me a generic reply because we both know what you’re doing is not normal. You’re not getting anything in return and—”
“Who says I’m not getting anything in return?” He arched his hips again, deliberately scorching me with his erection.
My heart rate skipped and tripped.
Clearing his throat, he said softly, “I think I’ve already told you that I’m borderline obsessive about helping people. It gives me purpose. It—”
“Yes but why? Why do you have to help? Doesn’t it cost you to care so much about others?”
“It does, but…I’ve always been wired that way.” His voice lowered to a gravelly whisper. “I was born with it. I’ve always been fascinated with blood and organs and how bones—” He cut himself off, searching my face. “I sound like a serial killer. No wonder you just tensed.”
I forced a laugh. “It’s fine. Continue.”
He sighed. “I just mean I like knowing how things work. One of my favourite toys as a kid was a plastic skeleton that my dad bought me one Christmas where you build the ribcage with all the organs and then snap on muscle, skin, and clothes.” His vision focused on the past. “When my dad got sick, I tried to figure out what went wrong so I could fix him. I was so sure I would be able to, but when I lost him, I had my first taste of powerlessness. I think that’s why I had to help you.” He focused on me again. “After what that bastard did to you, you felt that same powerlessness, and…I know the feeling. I feel it too often when I lose a patient and—” His eyes shot wide. “I mean—”
“So you’re a doctor? I thought you sounded like one in your messages—”
“No, I’m a, eh, I’m a vet. I meant animal patient.” He scrambled higher up the armrest, giving up when I kept him pinned. His eyes crinkled with a mask-hidden smirk. “Why else do you think your cat loves me so much? He can sense that I help his kind.”
“Crap, Peng.” Glancing around the living room, I panicked that we’d squashed the poor kitten. “Where is that ginger furball?”
Hearing his name, Peng trotted from the kitchen, licking his lips from enjoying a snack.
“There you are, you little rascal.”
Sitting primly on the living room threshold, he washed his paws.
“Seeing as you won’t release me until you’ve finished your inquisition, what’s your third question so I can go?” X grumbled, dragging my attention back to him.
I fumbled for something to ask. I didn’t really have three questions. I’d just wanted to talk. To see if we could hold a conversation in person as easily as we could via text.
A small part of me hoped the chemistry we shared would fade the longer we spoke. I needed something to stop my heart from dancing around him because I wasn’t ready for my crush to become something more. I definitely wasn’t prepared to develop feelings for a masked stranger all while the crush from my teenage days returned for my handsome neighbour.
I needed time.
I needed to be alone for a while so I could be whole by myself and not because a man patched up the holes I couldn’t.
But…X had successfully thrown me into a whirlpool of confusion.
“Um…third question.” I pursed my lips, thinking. “You said you live alone. Would you take me to your house sometime?”
He stiffened. “No.”
“Never?”
“Never is a long word.”
“I’ve thought of a better question.”
“Four wasn’t in our contract.”
I smiled. “Neither was three. But I asked anyway.” Stretching over him, I brushed my lips against his ear. “My fourth question is…if you won’t let me feed you cake as a thank you…can I do something else instead?”
His muscles turned to granite. “I told you, you don’t have to thank—”
“I get the feeling you’re not good at accepting appreciation.”
“It’s not that, it’s just—”
“Tell me, X, does anyone look after you as well as you look after everyone else?”
He added a layer of ice to his granite. “No. I mean, yes. I mean—”
“How long has it been since someone did for you what you did for me last night?”
He groaned, long and low and deep. “Lori…you’ve got to stop. I’m begging you.”
“Do you know the acronym of fear?”
His eyebrows shot up. “What?”
I grinned at how he struggled with my subject change. “I stumbled on a psychology website one night when I couldn’t sleep. I was searching for ways to break out of my terror, and it said fear can be broken into an acronym. Fantasised Experiences Appearing Real.” I rolled my eyes. “Of course, Milton was very much real and despite my fading bruises, I will carry the scars of that night for the rest of my life. However…everything else? The cracking of the walls as they cool. The shadows I see out the corner of my eye. The anxiety I feel about him coming back or being hurt again…those aren’t real. Those are simply echoes of the past and as long as I learn to let go and not let my panic consume me…they can’t hurt me.”