Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79413 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79413 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
I’ve tried to contact her to no avail. At first, I was dead set on seeing her, but as time passed, I became set in my old ways. I haven’t left the hotel, and Teagan clearly doesn’t want to see me. So like the creep I am, I go to the place she used to sleep when she didn’t spend the night with me upstairs.
The blanket is in a heap at the foot of the bed. I imagine her kicking it off sleepily before stumbling to the bathroom to brush her teeth like a weirdo. God, I miss her. I miss everything about her, including watching her smear toothpaste directly onto her front teeth. I feel the corner of my mouth lift into a smile, a feeling I haven’t experienced in the last four weeks. I didn’t even realize how much joy she brought me until she was gone.
With a heavy heart, I make my way through her suite until the stacked notes and drawings on the desk catch my attention. I pick up one of the pictures she drew of Maddie, wondering why she would leave something that was so important to her.
Jesus Christ. I told Tank not to let them take anything. Just when I thought I couldn’t be a bigger asshole. Dammit, I don’t deserve her. The very least I can do is return these to her.
Gathering every piece of paper I can find, I stack it in a neat pile and put it in the inside of my suit jacket. Using my newfound vigor, I leave her suite and speed walk to the elevator. I go directly to the underground garage, calling one of my guys to meet me down there with my car keys.
I haven’t driven my car in so long; I’m surprised it starts right away. Pulling out of the parking garage and into the busy city roads is a bit overwhelming. I quickly get used to it, swerving through traffic to get to Teagan faster.
Driving into her neighborhood, seeing the old beat-up cars, bars in front of windows, and trash scattered, reminds me of how bad of an area she lives in. I really hate this. I wish she would return to the hotel with me, where she is safe and comfortable.
I park in front of her apartment and kill the engine. Her papers feel heavy in my pocket as I get out of the car and walk to her front door. Lifting my hand, I rap my knuckles against the wood and wait. I don’t realize I’m holding my breath until I hear the click of the door unlocking and exhale.
The moment she appears, the tightening in my chest loosens, and I can breathe easier than I have in weeks. “Hi.” That’s the only word I can muster up. What the fuck is wrong with me? I’m a goddamn Navy SEAL, and I’m not afraid of anything. How am I so fucking nervous talking to this tiny woman.
“Hi,” she responds, her hand still on the knob as if she wants to stay ready to close the door in my face.
“I came here to give you this.” I dig her notes out of my pocket and hand them to her.
She doesn’t move, doesn’t reach out for them. Instead, she stares at the papers for a few moments, her eyes wide as tears build up in them. She blinks the tears away before one can escape. “I don’t want them.”
“What? Why?”
“I don’t care about them,” she lies. “It was a stupid idea. Just throw them in the trash.” And with that, she shuts the door, leaving me standing outside, confused and angry with myself.
How the fuck am I going to fix this mess I created?
Six months later…
I am a lot of things, but I never thought I would add stalker to that list. Yet here I am, sitting in the car in front of Teagan’s apartment, waiting for her to leave to go to work just to catch a glimpse of her. She hasn’t returned any of my calls, emails, or text messages. I stopped trying a few weeks ago, but I still can’t let go completely.
Everyone tells me to give up, but as my boot camp instructor used to say, there isn’t an ounce of quit in me. No matter how long it takes, I will do anything to win her back.
TEAGAN
“Hey, sweetheart!”
I know the burly, drunk man at the other end of the bar is calling for me, but the last I checked, my name isn’t sweetheart, so I continue polishing glasses like I didn’t hear him. Some people get the hint right away.
Others? Not so much.
“Hello? I’m talking to you.” When I still don’t answer, he bangs the bottom of his pint glass on the bar. “Hey!”
“Excuse me.” I turn around with a hand on my hip. The handful of customers who bother hanging around this late at night chuckle knowingly. Sure, none of them will stick up for me, but they’ll laugh at the free entertainment. “I’m wearing a name tag that says Teagan. Now, you’ve been in here enough to know my name.”