Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 77353 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77353 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
“Shh, baby, it’s okay,” Orion murmurs, rocking us softly as he rubs my back.
“They said he died instantly. He never knew his son, and thanks to me, his son doesn’t know him. God, I’m awful, aren’t I?”
My question hangs in the air between us, and Orion’s silence in the wake of it feels a lot like he agrees but is too polite to say it out loud. I want so badly to pull away from him, to grab Maverick so that we can run and never look back, but somehow, in his arms I feel safer and more at peace than I ever have.
Which is ridiculous.
“You’re human.” His voice is rough—raw—like there’s sandpaper lining his throat.
“What?” I lift my face from his chest, cringing at the damp patch my tears made.
“You’re not awful.” This time he sounds steady. Firm. “You’re human. Humans make mistakes, but you can also fix it, Frankie. It’s not too late to open up to Maverick about his dad. It’s never too late.”
“You really mean that?”
“I really, really do.”
“Thank you. For tonight. For listening. For everything.”
“Anytime, Frankie.” He presses a featherlight kiss to my forehead. “And I’m not just saying that either. Any time you need to talk it out, I’m here for you, okay?”
I sniffle as I nod.
“Words.”
“Okay.”
With soft movements, he scoots me out of his lap and helps me to my feet before standing himself. “Now, let’s go find Maverick, so we can get some of the cookies Mom made.”
I groan at the thought of facing everyone after the way I behaved.
“Don’t worry about it. No one’s gonna think any differently of you. Promise.”
“You can’t make promises for other people.”
“Fine.” He crosses his strong arms over his chest. “If anyone says shit, you can have my cookies.”
Even though my sadness lingers, I feel my lips lift into a grin. “Deal.”
“All right, now, let’s go before Stella teaches him how to climb to the top.” He starts off down the porch, and I eagerly follow. “She ever tell you how she met Samson?”
“No…”
He laughs. “C’mon, I’ll tell you on the way.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
ORION
“You don’t think they’ll really let him climb that high, right?” Frankie asks as we near the tree where Stella met Samson over a decade ago.
“Nah, after she fell from the top, she never went more than halfway up.”
“I guess it’s the kind of lesson you only need to learn once.”
Looking back, I grin at her, but she’s too focused on the scenery to notice. “Definitely.”
“It’s so beautiful out here.” There’s a wistfulness to her words that tugs at something deep inside of me.
“Yeah.” I blink twice and then scan the property, trying to take it in from her perspective. If you’d have asked me yesterday, I would have said it’s a field with dead grass and too many trees. “It is.”
But tonight, it’s alive and beautiful, as the sun dips low, setting the sky on fire.
I’m about to say something stupid like, you’re beautiful, when Maverick’s delighted squeal rings through the trees. “Mama! Mama!”
Frankie’s eyes widen as she looks around.
“Do you see me? Look up!”
I move to Frankie’s side and direct her gaze toward the tree Maverick’s calling to her from. “Right there.”
She looks up and breaks out into a brilliant grin when she spots Maverick chilling on a branch with Stella bracing him.
“See how high I am, Mama?”
“I do, bud.”
He turns and asks my sister something. She nods, and then the two of them start climbing down from the tree. They weren’t too high up, so it’s not any time before Maverick is running toward his mom.
The kid barrels into her full-speed, wrapping his arms around her middle while burying his face into her belly. “Are you still sad?”
Her entire face shutters as she sinks her slender fingers into his hair, holding him close. “I’m okay.”
He wiggles his head until her hand falls away, and then looks up at her. “Promise?”
“I promise.” Her throat bobs as she swallows. “And I’m sorry.”
“For what?” His whole face scrunches.
“A lot of things, bud.” She hugs him tight again. “For running out of there, for never talking about your dad with you. I’m so sorry, but I’m going to do better, okay?”
Maverick doesn’t reply right away. I’m not sure if he’s mulling over her words or if they’re more than a four-year-old can comprehend.
“Can I ask a question?”
Frankie’s lips quirk up into a shaky grin. “Just did.”
He sighs and wiggles his whole body. “Mama!”
She releases him, and he plops onto his bottom, not caring one bit that the grass is cold and damp.
He pats the ground beside him, and without even a lick of hesitation, Frankie sits, too. “You never have to ask if you can talk to me, Mav. Anytime you want to ask or tell me something, you can. Anytime.” She stresses that last word.