Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 94903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
At everything.
“No, I’m not mad at you,” I say honestly. “I’ve just hit the limit on the fucks I can give today.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I don’t have the energy to coddle you right now.”
Her jaw drops. “I haven’t asked you to do a damn thing for me.”
Dammit. Don’t take it out on her. “Megan, I’m sorry.”
I start to tell her that I’m sorry for being a dick. Then I consider that I should probably apologize for her having to deal with Kennedy getting suspended. That’s followed by the horrible laundry in my bag that will need to be washed, the fallout from this suspension, whatever comes next with that—the fact that I want to grab a shower and fall asleep for three days.
“Your mom is coming home tomorrow,” she says. “Do you know that?”
I still. Shit. I forgot. “Yeah. She told me.” I finish my beer and toss the can in the trash.
“So …” she says.
“So what?”
“So what does this mean? What do you want me to do?” She holds her hands out to her sides. “You said we’d talk about things when you got home.”
“Now’s not the time.”
I stand across the kitchen from Megan and see reality clearly for the first time.
She’s waiting on me to answer. For direction. For my attention. And I don’t have any answers or directions, and my well of attention has officially run dry.
And that’s what does it. That’s the kicker—the one thing I can’t overcome.
If I ask her to stay with us, I’m relegating her to this. It’s a life of chaos and turmoil, of teenage drama. Me being gone. When I come home, being too tired and annoyed to be a good partner.
She didn’t ask for this shit, and she definitely deserves more. She deserves attention. Friendship. The ability to create the life she wants instead of inheriting mine.
But, dammit, if I don’t want to keep her here with me.
“What do you want to do?” I ask her.
“About what?”
“Do you want to stay here, or do you want to go home?”
She stills. “What do you want me to do?”
I shake my head and sigh.
I want to ask her to stay. To beg her not to leave me. Ever. I want to spill my guts and confess that the only time my life has made sense is the last few weeks with her. But saying all of that will affect her decision. I know it will because that’s who she is. If she thinks I need her, she won’t leave … even if it’s the best thing for her.
She nods, licking her lips and blowing out a breath. “I thought … never mind.”
I know what she thought, and I thought it too. But the truth is, we might’ve had a great couple of weeks, but that’s not the real world. Why would she want to be sucked into this with us?
“Look, Megan, I’ve slept about five hours since I left here the other day. I have a pile of paperwork to do tomorrow. I have to talk to Kennedy. I have to call the school, deal with my mom coming home, and who knows what else will happen by morning.” I frown. “I’m dirty. I’m tired. And … And I don’t know why in the hell you’d want to be a part of this. If I were you, I’d go.”
“But what about the swing? All of that?”
“Do you want to do this, Megan? Really? Do you want this to be your life?” I spin in a circle, holding my arms out to the side. “Do you want to be stuck here raising my kid? Making me dinner? Waiting for me to come home?”
She blinks at me.
“Where will you work? What will you do for fun? How will you have a life here?”
Slowly, a look of sadness mixed with anger slides across her face. Although it kills me, I find some relief in it. If she’s feeling those things, at least she’s not upset.
But also—at least she feels enough for me to care.
Dammit.
“And why are you just thinking about this now?” she asks. “You sure weren’t coming from this angle the other day.”
“Because maybe I see things for the way they really are. Maybe reality just hit, and I’m thinking clearer without you sitting on my lap.”
That’s not fair, and I know it. But I can’t recant it. It might not be reasonable, but it is the truth.
Megan sniffles, her eyes narrowed. “You’re right. We got ahead of ourselves. It was just lust, after all. Don’t you think?”
My heart cracks. I can’t answer that. If I try, I’ll blurt out what I know is the truth—that I love her. And that will really complicate this.
That would be unfair.
She smiles, blinking back what I think are tears. “Okay. Thanks for letting me know.”