Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 83070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Thank you, God.
My breath stalls until her eyes lift to mine.
She flings open the door and runs across her lawn, throwing herself into my arms. I pull her against me, hoping the contact will stop my heart from cracking down the center from the sound of her cries.
“What the fuck happened?” I ask, kissing the top of her head.
“Why are you here?”
I chuckle in disbelief, holding her even tighter. “Because you need me.”
“But your meeting with the attorneys …”
“What about it?”
She leans back, looking up at me through wet lashes. I brush her tears off her face.
“Aren’t you supposed to be there?” she asks.
I press a gentle kiss to her lips. “You need me. So I’m supposed to be here.”
She buries her face in my chest again, fisting my shirt in her hands.
“Let’s go inside before the neighbors start asking questions,” I whisper, not wanting to let her go.
She hands me her keys and I unlock the door, and as we step inside, I finally get a good look at her.
My sweet girl.
Her cheeks are stained with mascara, and her beautiful eyes are puffy. I don’t know what her father said to her, but I’ll get to the bottom of it. Later. Right now, that’s going to have to take a back seat.
She’s the priority. My priority. The only priority.
“What do you need?” I ask her, searching her face.
Her bottom lip quivers, so I kiss it to make it stop.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” she whispers.
“Where did you think I’d be? You answered the phone crying, for fuck’s sake.”
“I’m sorry for scaring you.”
I lift her chin, tilting her head back and peering into her eyes. “Never be sorry for needing me. Got it?”
A slow smile slips across her face.
“Do you want to talk?” I ask, not sure what to do in these uncharted waters. This isn’t a situation I have much experience in, and I don’t want to say or do the wrong thing. “Do you want a drink? A shower?”
Her shoulders fall. “A shower would be great. Crying makes me feel sticky.”
“Then let’s go.”
I take her hand and lead her down the hallway to her bathroom. I turn on the shower to warm it up, and then shift my attention to Carys. She’s watching me hesitantly, like she’s waiting for a bubble to burst. Has anyone ever treated her right? I don’t think so. The thought kills me, but I’m happy to be the one to show her what that looks like.
It’s a fucking privilege.
“Lift your arms,” I say.
She holds her hands over her head, and I remove her shirt. I unfasten her bra while she steps out of her shoes and pants, then I work quickly to rid myself of my clothes, too. She peels a cotton ball and bandage off her arm from her blood work and tosses it in the trash, and I place my watch on the vanity.
Her eyes sparkle as I step into the shower, taking her hand and pulling her in with me.
I want to fix her, to erase whatever hurt her tonight. I need her to know that she’s not alone in it. I’m here in whatever way she needs.
“Is that too hot?” I ask.
“It’s perfect.” She traces a line down my sternum as I brush her hair off her face. “You make things better. Do you know that?”
“I’m glad.”
She takes a long, shaky breath as tears gather in the corners of her eyes again. “He was really awful to me tonight.”
I grab a bottle of shampoo and squirt a bit in my hand. I focus on spreading it over her hair in an even layer to keep myself calm.
“Did anyone stick up for you?” I ask, massaging the shampoo into her scalp with my fingertips.
“Aurora told him to stop a few times, but it didn’t matter.”
“Do you want to tell me what he said?”
She takes another breath, letting her eyes close.
“He basically said that he didn’t want anything to do with me, and that I won’t leave him alone. That I’m just hanging around long enough to get something from him when he dies.”
I fight the urge to laugh. If only that fucker knew that as soon as I can work up the courage to ask her to marry me, she’ll have more zeros at the end of her name than he can even fathom.
“None of it really made sense,” she says, tracing the line of my shoulders with her fingers. “I’ve never asked him for anything, and I don’t bother him unless Aurora asks me to come over. It’s not like I’m begging him for attention … or affection.”
“Hurt men hurt women,” I say, working the suds in small circles. “I know it doesn’t help for me to say this, but his behavior has nothing to do with you.”
“It doesn’t feel that way.”