Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 109505 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109505 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Hours have gone by, and now the sun has fully set, and still no sign of her, so I try her phone once more with no luck.
Pushing to my feet, I climb inside my truck and do the only thing I can.
I head home, pack for Nashville and climb into bed, but sleep doesn’t come.
Before I know it, my alarm’s going off and exhaustion is in full effect.
My body aches, but I throw myself into the shower, and by the time I’m climbing out, Echo is ready and waiting in the kitchen, a protein shake in hand.
“You look like shit, brother.”
“I feel like shit, my man.” I take the shake, toss a few Vitamin Waters into the bag I’ll take onto the plane with me, and off we fucking go.
I’m going to have to put my headphones in and blast my music to hide the fact that I’m not exactly in the game.
Coach would have my ass for taking my eye off the prize.
But the prize is looking a hell of a lot different nowadays.
q
Meyer
The last few days have been stressful, the only bit of relief was the fact that I knew Tobias was hours away, so I didn’t have to deal with all that came with him being near. I had hoped he would ease up while he was gone, but that was me trying to convince myself of something I knew was far from true. I wasn’t simply some girl to him.
I was more.
Which is why it hurt like hell when, like clockwork, every day he would text me.
He wasn’t angry or inquisitive. He was sweet and silly.
Told me to tell Bailey things as if she understood or asked questions about what we were doing and how she was. Questions that went unanswered and as a result, they began to shift.
Flirt went to worry, worry to frustration, and that’s when anger set in.
The last one I read was four simple words that about killed me.
‘What the fuck, Meyer?’ he had sent, and after that, I stopped opening them.
But it’s Tuesday now, the day he gets back, and my nerves are high.
I’m on my third student of the day when Tobias’s fifth text comes through.
I should have known better than to ignore them all, because moments after my phone vibrates on the desk beside me, something tells me to look up, and as I do, all the air leaves my lungs.
Tobias is charging up the front steps of the library.
My throat clogs, and I shoot to my feet, shoving my things in my bag in a panic.
“I’m so sorry, I have an emergency. I’ll email you.” I dash away, head around the back side of the bookshelves and sneak out the way he came in.
My palms begin to sweat, and I rush around the side of the building, following along the wheelchair path that leads to the child development center. I slip inside and rush into the bathroom, locking myself in an open breastfeeding room. I drop into the rocking chair, my hands coming up to cover my face.
My lips tremble, tears springing into my eyes and heating my cheeks on their way down.
I take a deep breath, blowing it out. I can’t do this.
I shake my head, staring off into space.
I’m not sure how long I sit there, but when my phone vibrates in my front pocket, I jolt.
With a heavy heart, I pull it out, afraid to look to the screen, but as I do, I find it’s not a text from Tobias, but an email from the admissions office at the University of Florida.
A strange numbness slips over me and I lick my lips.
It’s with shaky hands that I open it up, and as I read over the acceptance letter, it’s as if my insides crack wide open, creating a gaping hole in its wake.
It’s painful and deep and suddenly, it’s hard to breathe.
I push to my feet, fighting for air I can’t seem to find, but then I look to the changing table in the corner, and I think of Bailey.
Of the future we can have rather than the one we can’t.
It’s torturous to push away thoughts that consume me, to let go of the hope I so recklessly allowed, but it’s like I said before.
Reality is as sad as it is serene.
I step out of the room, splashing water on my face and bracing on the counter for a deep breath.
Once I have Bailey all checked out, I rush home, praying Tobias isn’t standing on my front porch when we arrive.
Too bad for me, he is.
Shit.
CHAPTER 27
Tobias
Meyer’s face falls, and she freezes where she stands.
Anger flares, and I push off the doorframe, but all the pressure in my body washes away as she approaches.
I didn’t realize how badly I needed to see her and Bailey. To see with my own eyes that they’re okay, but as I realize they’re just fine, which deep down I knew all along, the tension returns.