Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 140184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 701(@200wpm)___ 561(@250wpm)___ 467(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 701(@200wpm)___ 561(@250wpm)___ 467(@300wpm)
I love him to death, but right now…
I don’t want to comfort him or reassure him.
I’m exhausted, and I just want to go back to sleep.
Pulling out of his embrace makes me feel so cold. I roll over and pull the blankets up around me, but somehow, I don’t feel any warmer. “I’m tired,” I murmur, burrowing in.
“Do you want me to lie here with you?”
No.
The thought brings tears to my tired eyes. I’m glad he can’t see them, glad he can’t hear them when I say, “No, it’s okay. I just want to go to sleep.”
He doesn’t say a word, but I can feel his helplessness. It kills me. I know Milo isn’t used to feeling that way and he must hate it, I just don’t have the energy to fix it right now.
I hope it doesn’t kill his love for me, but I don’t even know how much he has left. He said he’d love me no matter what, but nobody ever really means that.
I’ll love you until it gets hard, that’s what they mean, and I know this is hard.
It’s hard for me, too, but I don’t have the option of walking away from it.
He does.
He’s a good man, so, sure, he’d feel bad for a while, but it would pass, and then he could move on with his life.
Right now, it doesn’t feel like I ever will. The clouds may break for a little while, but there will always be something just around the corner to sink me back into this pit of loneliness and despair.
I tell myself that maybe he’s right and this will pass, but it doesn’t stop the feeling of quicksand beneath my feet. One wrong step and I sink.
I know how much he wants to be there for me, but I feel like I’m walking alone.
I close my eyes, pushing out more tears.
Milo doesn’t know I’m crying, so he rolls over and climbs off the bed.
Don’t go.
But he needs to. He’s just making me feel worse right now, and I need a break.
“I’m just downstairs if you need anything,” he tells me.
I need something, all right. Just nothing he wants to give me.
Chapter twenty-five
Milo
Bacon grease sizzles in the pan as I reach down to turn off the heat. I transfer the cooked meat to the plate lined with paper towels beside the stove and hear the telltale squeak of cross trainers on the kitchen floor behind me.
“Damn, it smells good in here for a Monday morning.”
My gaze flickers to Jonathan as he enters the kitchen in his workout clothes. “I made Jet a sandwich before he left for school. Figured I’d make you one, too. Going for a run?”
He nods, looking at the breakfast sandwich I’m assembling for him. “I was going to, but I can wait. You eating with me?”
I shake my head, laying the hot bacon across the top of the sandwich and closing it. “Kennedy is still asleep, so I’ll wait to eat with her.”
“Her sleep schedule’s all fucked up, might not be anytime soon. Will you still be home when she wakes up?”
I nod, moving the egg skillet to the sink and rinsing it. “I took a sick day. Jet’s at school and you have classes today. I can’t leave her here all by herself.”
He goes to the fridge and grabs the orange juice. “I take it last night wasn’t a good night.”
I sigh, not wanting to relive any part of last night. “No, it sure wasn’t.”
He grabs a glass out of the cupboard and glances over at me. “You didn’t fuck her, did you?”
I wouldn’t appreciate him asking about my sex life if he hadn’t fucked the woman in question, but I damn sure don’t appreciate it now.
Taking my silence as an answer, he shakes his head, pouring juice into his glass. “You have got to get out of your own way, old man.”
“I am not a fucking old man.”
“You’re acting like one. Clinging to outdated fucking bullshit ideas that don’t work anymore—if they ever did in the first place.” He puts the juice carton back in the fridge and walks to the counter. “Why are you not fucking this gorgeous, sexy girl who was literally begging for your cock the other night? I don’t understand.”
This is the last thing I want to talk about with him, but on the heels of what he just said, I stop holding back. “I wouldn’t expect you to, Jonathan. You fucked her when she didn’t even want you to.”
He shrugs, taking a bite of the sandwich I just made him. “That’s what she needed. Not my place to judge.”
“I’m not talking about that fucking night. In the shower the next morning. She didn’t want it, and she was too afraid to tell you.”
His brow furrows briefly, but he’s not too bothered by the information. “That may be true. It’s an imperfect science when you’re playing with consent without a safe word, but see? I did something she didn’t even want me to do, and she’s fine. She knew she asked for it. Maybe it didn’t go exactly the way she wanted, but she didn’t fall apart. I didn’t devastate her. I didn’t even do as much damage as you’ve done, and I did what you’re so afraid of doing.”