Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 116708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 584(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 584(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
Trying to make sense of what happened, I struggled beneath him.
“Stay down,” he hissed in my ear, another flash detonating through the room.
His dead weight suffocated me, so I squirmed beneath him. “I can’t…breathe.”
He pushed up onto his elbows a fraction, allowing my lungs a taste of oxygen that was immediately stolen when I caught sight of his ashen face.
His gaze flicked in every direction, searching without seeing. Panic and confusion etched deep lines across his forehead, and the corners of his eyes crinkled. He was literally on top of me, our bodies flush head to toe, but mentally, that beautifully broken man was a million miles away.
And it absolutely destroyed me to imagine where he could have been.
“True,” I whispered.
Another flash jolted him.
Dammit, what the hell was going on? It wasn’t the horrors that he more than likely had playing in his mind, but I couldn’t figure out what it was to reassure him otherwise.
The sun had started to slip below the horizon, but it wasn’t dark out yet. The flashing was too interspersed to be passing headlights, and there was no sound, so I ruled out lightning too. Craning my neck, I searched the front windows, desperate for an answer. When another flash illuminated the restaurant, I was able to track it and caught sight of a figure just outside, holding what looked like a camera. And not a cell phone or the compact type a tourist would carry. This was the tool of a professional, and it was aimed directly at us.
Fury ignited within me as the camera slowly lowered, revealing Taggart fucking Folly behind the lens.
What the hell was he doing? Did he really think sneaking around and taking pictures was going to make us suddenly catch a case of the warm and fuzzies and cooperate with his documentary? Then again, maybe after the way I’d behaved during our last interaction, he’d realized he didn’t need us to cooperate at all.
While I owned the restaurant, I didn’t own the sidewalk. It wasn’t illegal to take pictures on public property, and with all the windows up front uncovered, we had no illusions of privacy. Whatever photos he snapped were fair game for him to use however he saw fit.
We had to get out of his view. If he had a camera, he probably had video too. Never had Truett been more vulnerable than he was in that moment, lost in the past. I wouldn’t allow that asshole to profit from his pain.
I fought to free myself from under Truett, but he held me tight, not allowing me to budge.
In a voice so full of gravel it felt like road rash as it traveled over my skin, he pleaded, “Stop fucking moving. I can’t lose you too.”
I can’t lose you too.
It felt like a kick to my gut, and I immediately redirected my focus. My anger morphed into featherlike gentleness. “True, baby, look at me.”
His gaze instantly slid to mine, the desolation on his face stripping me bare.
“You’re okay. It’s just the flash of a camera.”
His eyes remained unfocused, the past refusing to abate. “What?”
“It’s the documentary guy taking pictures through the windows. There’s no danger, baby. I promise.”
His breathing shuddered, his mind not yet ready to release him. My Truett was in there though, fighting his way back, because this time when I moved, he allowed me the space to free my arms.
I hooked one arm around him, my palm resting on his back, pulling him impossibly closer as if I could bring him back by sheer force of will. I slid my other hand over his bearded cheek and into his hair, smoothing it down. “You’re safe, True.”
His eyes slowly began to focus, a glimmer of recognition returning. “Are you safe though?”
My lungs seized. Four words and my heart shattered before piecing itself back together, fuller than before. He was forging his way back from hell and I was his first priority.
Damn, why did that feel so good?
Maybe because I hadn’t been a priority to anyone—even myself—in years.
I continued to stroke his hair and managed a weak smile as I replied, “Yeah, baby. I’m safe. We’re both safe. Everything’s okay.”
For once, I didn’t feel like it was a placating lie.
My back ached.
I was still struggling to breathe under his immense weight.
And who knew how much footage Taggart Folly already had of us or what he planned to use it for.
But I would have happily stayed on that floor, wrapped in his arms, for the rest of the night.
Truett
Five things I could see: Gwen’s lashes batting over concerned eyes; Gwen’s lips as she whispered to me; Gwen’s braids curling over her shoulder; the curve of Gwen’s neck, tense and strained; Gwen’s flushed cheeks, burning with urgency.
Four things I could touch: Gwen’s hands, clutching me desperately; Gwen’s cheeks, pink and perfect; Gwen’s chest rising and falling with rapid breaths; Gwen’s legs, tangled with mine.