Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 92743 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92743 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
But for some reason, I can’t find the words to tell her that. I can’t speak at all. I can only watch, mute, as she sets her suitcase beside mine and slides onto the stool beside me.
She meets my gaze, hers softening as she says, “How are you?”
“Terrible,” I rasp out.
She nods. “Me, too. I slept until noon today. These are my pajamas.”
“You’re still beautiful.”
“You, too,” she says, her brows shifting closer together. “I told Gramps about you.”
My eyes widen.
“Yeah,” she says, her breath rushing out. “I didn’t mean to, really. It just kind of happened and he was more okay with it than I thought. He also said some things. About you. About when you were a kid, in particular, that made me think I might have been too quick to judge the other day. What you did is still awful and scary, but—”
“Agreed,” I say, my tongue finally getting the message that it’s time to speak up. If she’s here to give us another chance, I can’t afford to sit here like a mute and let it pass me by. “But I would never do anything like that again. I swear. I’d cut off my own hands first.”
“I know,” she says. “On the way over here, I kept thinking about the hospital. How you stood there letting Dad hurt you and barely even fought back, even though you had every right to defend yourself. And well, like I told Gramps, if I hadn’t had him in my life to help me heal from all the hard parts of my childhood, I don’t know what kind of person I’d be right now. But I bet I’d be an angry one, maybe even a violent one.” She tilts her head, her eyes narrowing as she adds, “Sounds like you didn’t have good people around you to help make up for having things hard at home.”
I shake my head. “No. My brother and I were taught very young that we didn’t speak about things that went on behind closed doors. If we did, we paid the price for it.”
She bites her lip, but doesn’t speak until after the bartender has delivered our drinks, and I’ve told him we’ll take the check. Hunter’s people will be in to fetch me at any moment. It’s best if I’m all paid up and ready to explain to them that I won’t be leaving, after all.
At least, I hope I won’t…
“But a lot of people have rough childhoods, and don’t beat a man the way I did,” I add once the check has been delivered and the bartender has toddled off to refill the drinks of the giggling Las Vegas-bound women. “You’re right. I should have faced consequences for what I did. It wasn’t right.”
“No, but it wasn’t all your fault, either,” she says. “Like you said, the guy wasn’t an innocent bystander. And you never did anything like that again. I should have thought more about that. It takes a lot of strength and commitment to change.” She clears her throat, her lips twisting to one side. “My dad left rehab last night. Someone saw him at the pub, apparently.”
“I’m sorry.” I want to reach for her hand, to pull her into my arms and hold her, but we’re not there yet. But hell, we’re closer than I imagined we’d be, and it’s enough to make my voice shake as I say, “You’ve been let down more than anyone should be, but I would never do that to you, Sully. If you give me the chance, I’ll prove I can be the kind of man you need. I can be a good man.”
“You are a good man,” she says, her throat working. “I’m sorry I doubted that. It was just a horrible weekend and there was so much stress. I wasn’t thinking clearly and…I was scared.” I start to assure her again that I’d die before I’d hurt her, when she adds, “Not of you. I was scared of myself, of how hard I fell for you and how fast.” She chews her bottom lip. “And I think part of me was scared that you’d come to your senses eventually and realize you’re way, way out of my league.”
I reach for her hand, holding it tight, the feel of her skin against mine a reprieve seconds before a death sentence. “You are my person. You’re the reason I’ve never loved anyone like this before. I was waiting for you, for the only person who’s ever felt like home.”
“Me, too,” she whispers. “You feel like home, too.”
“Like a real home,” I clarify, the vice around my ribs loosening as she threads her fingers through mine, “not the one I knew as a child.”
She blinks tears from her eyes. “I’m sorry your childhood was crap.”
“Same,” I say. “And I hate myself for the role I played in the crappy part of yours. Every time I think about you as a little girl, wandering your house, alone and scared because I was stupid enough to go to a bar with a married woman, I want to go back in time and shake some sense into myself.”