Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 137131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
The vehicle shuts off.
In the silence, I look at him again, very slowly like I want to hide behind my hands.
In the dappled light coming through the trees, he’s a patchwork of sun and shadows, the human version of a mountain catching the sun.
For a second, I freeze.
My irrational side reaches peak self-loathing when I’m actually terrified he might lay down the law right here and end things.
What if that kiss was a goodbye? And now here comes the breakup in this calm, beautiful place he’s chosen to soften the blow.
I inhale so sharply I almost choke.
But his big hand on my leg lingers, screaming reassurance.
It’s so gentle. That’s not what someone who’s about to go full heartbreaker does, right?
Not that I’m his partner or girlfriend or we’re technically together. He made that clear with his mother.
I’m sure that whole mess gives him plenty to regret.
There’s a growing list, and my ex breaking in and destroying his property is probably at the top, soon followed by the hard reality that I’ve infiltrated his home and his life.
“Winnie?” he asks, his blue eyes flashing with concern. I realize my hysterical laughter must be bubbling close to the surface if he can see it.
My eyes water from the effort of keeping it in.
That breakdown is coming, faster than I thought.
“I’m fine,” I rush out. “Why did you bring me here?”
He hesitates. “Walk with me?”
How could anyone say no to that? Anyone who’s not afraid of being axe-murdered, anyway—which I’m not with him. The grim, intrusive thought is just more hysteria because that kind of cartoon evil almost feels preferable to him gently letting me go.
I get out and we follow a narrow trail into the forest. He reaches out and takes my hand, gingerly holding it the entire time.
We walk into a silence barely disturbed by birdsongs.
I’m afraid to break it.
While the sweet hand-holding suggests he’s not about to smash my heart like an ornament, it’s not like I haven’t caused him a lot of trouble.
Infinitely more than he bargained for.
We come to a fallen tree, mossy and ancient and kind of majestic. He leads me to it, holding on as I stumble over the uneven ground gnarled in rocks and roots, urging me to sit.
We’re in this little fairy-tale clearing with the blue sky above and birds flitting in and out of branches.
Breathtaking.
A little slice of heaven—or as close as you can get in Missouri, just thirty minutes or so away from a teeming city.
“I’m sorry for crying all over you back there,” I start before he has a chance to speak. “And I’m really sorry for what Holden did… coming to Solitude and destroying the bees like that? God.”
“Will you stop apologizing for him?” His voice hardens.
Eek. I don’t know how to stop.
If my lovely parents ingrained anything, it’s the guilt trip—and apologies are how you get demanding people to forgive your mistakes. And I’ve made a truckload of errors since moving here.
“Sorry. It’s just, you don’t need this.” You don’t need me is what I really mean.
But he shakes his head fiercely.
“You think I brought you here so I could listen to you apologize for shit that’s not your fault while you rake yourself over the coals?”
“But—”
“Winnie, no. We’re here so I can tell you something.” His grip on my hand tightens. “I need you to just sit and listen, okay?”
Sit and listen.
Okay.
I can do that.
“I couldn’t care less about this ‘trouble’ you’ve caused. That’s part of keeping you safe,” he rumbles. “I want to be honest with you, and I haven’t been. No, that’s not fair.” He searches for the right words. I hold my breath, unsure where this is going. “What I mean is, I haven’t been open enough with you. That’s my fault, and I want to be.”
Listen, listen.
He told me to listen so I’ll keep my mouth shut, but it’s hard when his words are so heavy and I want to kiss him, to tell him he doesn’t need to go out of his way to confess whatever it is that’s eating him up.
I’m trying not to cry again.
“I was very young when I met Rina, and it moved way too fast,” he says. “I didn’t have my life figured out before she got pregnant, before we were even serious. I tried to make the impossible work.”
Yep, the tone of his voice alone means I’m definitely going to cry now, but I keep listening.
“On paper, I did all the right stuff,” he says, bitterness creeping into his voice. “I proposed. I gave her a big-ass ring, quit the army, came home, and tried to make a family. Everything was for her and my boy. Then she grew restless. She put her dreams over our family—and it fucked me up because I let it.”
“Archer,” I whisper.
He shifts, pivoting until he’s looking at me.