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 turned as I approached the fence.
“Are you lost?” I asked, adjusting my hat.
“Something like that.” He rubbed his lips together.
I grinned because my heart needed to feel the joy he brought to me just with one look.
“How are you?”
I shrugged. “Still sober.”
His smile died. “That’s not what I meant, but I suppose that’s good too.”
“How do you want me to be?” I asked, stuffing my hands into my jacket pockets.
“I want the best for you.”
“Is that why you paid for my rehab?”
He narrowed his eyes, and I waited for him to deny it, but he didn’t. Instead, he relinquished a tiny nod.
“Thank you.”
Again, he paused before nodding again.
“How’s your arm?”
“Better. I’m still doing my prescribed exercises.”
“That’s good. How’s Josh’s arm?” That was a much harder question to ask, but I couldn’t avoid it.
“He’s fine. I told you the doctor said his scars could completely fade over time.”
I swallowed past the painful lump in my throat because I knew what he said at the rehab center, but I didn’t know if it was true or if he said it to make me feel less awful. “Is he excited for Christmas?”
“Of course.” Kyle stared at his feet.
“Why are you here at eleven o’clock at night?”
He kicked at the snow, taking his time to answer. “To be near you,” he whispered.
“It’s cold.”
“That’s because you’re there, and I’m here.”
I grinned, high-stepping the last few feet in the snow to reach the fence. “Better?”
He slowly shook his head.
I wormed my way between the wood rails and stood before him. “Better?”
The familiar look in his eyes made me melt, even if he didn’t feel the heat yet. He shook his head again.
I grabbed his jacket and lifted to my toes to kiss him, then I whispered, “Better?”
“Not yet.” He grinned, resting his hands on my hips while he turned and pressed his back against the fence post. He lowered to his butt, bringing me with him, straddling his legs.
“Your backside will be wet.”
“So,” he murmured before kissing me.
I unzipped his jacket and then mine, pulling my arms out. He held my jacket to me like a blanket while I hugged him, cocooning myself next to him, sharing body heat and long kisses.
“Baby, you’re so beautiful,” he whispered in my ear, sliding his hand along my neck beneath my hair.
I closed my eyes, memorizing the feel of his touch, his breath at my ear, and the soothing vibration of his voice.
My fingers curled into his back. “Take me with you,” I pleaded.
He teased my earlobe with his teeth, then murmured, “It’s not our time.”
“Why not?” I turned my head and kissed a trail from his cheek to his lips, and again, we kissed like it could be the last kiss we ever shared.
Then he rested his forehead against mine. “Because I need to get a new job, find a place to live so Josh feels settled again. And you need to find your feet again. You need to stand on your own.”
I pressed my palms to his cheeks. “I found my feet, and I’m standing on my own.” Desperation wrapped around my words, making a case for my aching heart.
“Maybe,” he whispered with tension in his brow as I traced his lower lip with the pad of my thumb. “But I don’t know if I’ve found mine. When I carried you up that hill”—he closed his eyes briefly—“you were just so fucking lifeless, and I lost something in that moment. And I won’t give you anything unless I can give you everything. So maybe right now I’m the one who’s a little unsteady.”
“I made a mistake. How many times do I have to apologize?” I buried my face into his neck and snaked my arms around his body again. “How can you just walk away from me like everything that happened before that night no longer matters?”
He didn’t answer, but he held me a little longer before dropping his hands to his sides. “I have to get home,” he said.
It was my fault. Despite my desperate pleas, I knew he’d never be able to forgive me. And even though I didn’t blame him, it still hurt. I pulled back, searching his eyes, but he wouldn’t look at me, so I stood, threading my arms through my jacket. “I know you paid for my therapy so I wouldn’t hate you when you left me, but—”
“But you hate me,” he said, standing and wiping off his backside. “And I paid for your therapy because I love you.”
I looked away to keep from crying. “You’re such an asshole,” I mumbled. “If this is love, then you’re a terrible lover. When you love someone, you stay. You fight for them. You forgive them. You—”
“Eve!” he said, making me jump. “I have a child. And I love you so much that I can’t fucking stay away from you. But I love him more.” He slowly shook his head. “I’m not perfect. I don’t know if this is the right decision, but it is an excruciatingly hard one. And I may regret it for the rest of my life. And maybe you’ll hate me for the rest of yours. But I …” He swallowed hard. “I gave you alcohol. And I ignored all the signs because you reminded me of myself. And I reasoned that I didn’t have a problem, so you didn’t either. I saw what I wanted to see.”