Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 116909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 585(@200wpm)___ 468(@250wpm)___ 390(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 585(@200wpm)___ 468(@250wpm)___ 390(@300wpm)
But there was no way for her to be truly irritated with him. Not when she could feel his turmoil through their bond. Dealing with others’ grief had pulled his own to the surface, and he was struggling to wrestle it back.
Her female whined, distressed that her mate was in pain. She wanted to alleviate it but didn’t know how. She kept butting Blair, urging her to do something. Blair had tried. And tried and tried. She’d done everything from giving him space to pushing him to talk, but she couldn’t reach him.
No quitter, Blair whispered, “Come back to me.”
His brow ever so slightly furrowed, he looked at her. “I’m right here.”
“No, you’re not,” she said, keeping her voice gentle. “You’re mentally someplace else. Somewhere I can’t go. And I need you to come back.”
He returned his gaze to the ceiling, sighing.
“Look, I’m going to guess that your thoughts are centering around not only your mom but the things you haven’t yet shared with me. We need to talk about all that sooner or later. Why not now?”
He scrubbed a hand down his face.
“Talk to me. You’re hurting, and I hate it. Let me help. Offload it.”
Returning his gaze to hers, he stroked her hair. “Not tonight. You’re hurting too—”
“There’ll never really be a ‘good time’ for you to dredge up what you’ve been holding back from me for so long. It’s always going to be hard on you. Do it now, when your grief is already near the surface, so you won’t have to dig it up all over again.”
He didn’t speak. Only stared at her, unblinking. And she thought he might deny her this, but then he let out a resigned sigh and said, “Only if you’ll talk about Marianna. I can feel your own grief and pain like it’s my own.”
Her stomach twisted, and her inner animal pulled in on herself. “You already know about her.”
“I know how she died, but I don’t know much about her. Whenever I brought her up, all you ever really said was that you loved and missed her.” He gave Blair’s shoulder a small squeeze. “Tell me about her.”
Knowing it was only fair that she pick at the scabs on her own wounds when she expected him to soon do the same to his, Blair swallowed and said, “She was such a gentle soul. Full of compassion. Didn’t have a judgmental bone in her body. No one ever had a negative word to say about her. There was nothing negative to say. She was an amazing person … and so I can’t help hating the part of myself that’s still angry with her.”
“Baby.” It was a soft murmur.
“All she had to do was stay down and not move. The gunman would have scampered once the gas station clerk handed over the cash. But no. Not Marianna. She was apparently sure she could talk him into lowering the damn gun. Knowing her, she probably felt sorry for him when she realized he was a hopped-up addict. She was all about helping people. And he killed her. Shot her right in the head.”
Luke’s chest tightened as his mate’s eyes welled up. Sweeping a hand up her back, he edged closer and kissed her temple. His cat rubbed up against her, feeling powerless to help.
“Why didn’t she just stay down, Luke? Why put her life at risk, knowing what her death would do to those she loved, purely to help someone who’d long ago stopped helping themselves?”
He squeezed her nape, wishing he could erase her anguish. “It doesn’t make you cruel that you’re still angry with her.”
Blair averted her gaze, but not before he saw the lick of shame there. An emotion that slicked its way along their bond.
“It doesn’t make you cruel,” he repeated.
“I miss her,” said Blair. “Anytime something big happens—good or bad—I wonder what she would have thought about it. Wonder what she would have said. She had so much to give. Her death was a total waste of life. She died for nothing. The gas station still got robbed. The addict still later got arrested. The bastard killed himself in prison, leaving a note to say he couldn’t handle the guilt. Well then he shouldn’t have shot her.”
Luke swiped his thumb over her cheek to wipe away a tear. He’d known the shooter died in prison, but he hadn’t known it had been suicide.
“Realizing I’d have to live a life that didn’t include my big sister … it scared me. She’d always been there, always looked out for me. She was my role model. And then I didn’t have her anymore. All of a sudden. Just like that.”
Luke tucked her hair behind her ear. “It’s a shock to lose someone. You might have moments throughout your life when you think of how horrible it would be to lose them, but you don’t think you truly will. Then they’re gone, and there’s nothing you wouldn’t do to turn back the clock.”