Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 104151 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104151 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
He took the toothbrush from me. “Did it ever occur to you that I kicked them out so you could bathe me?”
I rolled my eyes.
After he finished brushing his teeth, he eased into bed. I stole one of his T-shirts and returned to the bathroom. A few minutes later, I opened the door, and he eyed me in his shirt as I made my way to the other side of the bed, reaching for the lamp to turn it off.
“Wait,” he said, eyeing me. “Let me look at you in my shirt.”
I glanced down. It was just a gray T-shirt with a Nike swoosh.
“I’m scared,” he said.
My gaze shot up to his.
Tiny lines formed along his forehead. “My life felt perfect.” His gaze affixed to the shirt, but it looked like he was seeing something that wasn’t in the room or the present. “Maybe not perfect by other people’s standards, but it felt perfect to me. I was in love. We were having a baby. House. Jobs. 401(k). It all seemed logical. The dream was there. We just had to take it. But she didn’t want it.” His brow tensed more, eyes narrowed. “How do you carry a life inside of you for nine months, push it out of your body, hold him in your arms, and then just walk away?”
Kyle looked at me. “How did I fall in love with someone who would do that?”
I swallowed, but there was no right response. I felt only eighteen under the weight of his question.
“When Josh was born, my heart exploded. It was like everything I had done up until that point was frivolous and inconsequential. When they let me hold him, I didn’t want to let him go. He’s just …” Kyle’s eyes reddened. “He’s the best part of every day. Everything in my life is better because of him. I am better because of him.”
I used his shirt sleeve to wipe my eyes and snotty nose.
“So I’m scared, Eve. I’m scared because I don’t trust my heart. And that little boy trusts everyone.”
“You don’t trust me,” I whispered.
“I love you.”
I nodded slowly. “But you’re scared to love me.”
He stared at the ceiling.
I waited.
And I waited.
“Eve, I’m terrified to love you. And I knew it the second I saw the look in my brother’s eyes. It was the look he gave me when I said I was going to be a dad and ask Melinda to marry me. He’s always thought I make rash decisions.”
“I don’t want to be your regret.”
“I would never regret you.”
“But if we don’t work—”
“I would never regret you.” He stretched out his good arm. “Come here.”
After a slight hesitation, I turned off the light and crawled into his bed, hugging his arm and holding his hand.
“Regret isn’t the right word. It’s the pain that terrifies me. It’s the loss. The self-doubt. The responsibility I feel for Josh’s well-being. Telling my brother and Anne felt like the point of no return. That’s a lot of pressure to put on you at your age.”
“Why does everything come back to my age?”
“Because it matters, Eve. You’re trying to figure out where you fit in the world now that you’re out of school. You have a job, but you live at home. You’re impulsive, and you have a need to push boundaries, which is—”
“Why does everyone say I’m impulsive?” I released his arm and rolled to my back with a harsh sigh.
He chuckled, and it infuriated me. It felt condescending.
“You’re making my point by not letting me finish. It’s natural to be this way at your age. And it’s one of the things I love about you. But it’s also really fucking scary because it makes you unpredictable. So, yeah, I’m glad you’re here in my bed. I’m beyond grateful for what you’ve done for Josh and me. And I want things to work out between us, but I don’t see it happening without a lot of battles, blood, sweat, and tears.”
He reached for my hand. “But I’m in. I wouldn’t have told my brother and Anne unless I was fully committed. But I won’t lie to you and say I’m not terrified. Every day won’t be fishing and hiding in a hut by the creek.”
“I know that,” I grumbled.
Again, he chuckled.
“Stop laughing at me.”
“It’s joy. You bring me joy, even when showing your stubborn side.”
I rolled again to turn my back to him. I wasn’t being stubborn. I was pissed off that there was no way to expedite my way into being a “mature” adult. I was still a fucking teenager.
He hooked several fingers into my underwear’s waistband and pulled me closer to him, giving me a wedgie.
“Stop,” I said, wriggling to fix my underwear.
“You stop.” He tucked me under his good arm. “Sweet dreams, my love.”
My love …
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT