Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73842 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73842 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
I sit up in bed, the covers pooling around my waist as I survey the dimly lit room from the early morning sun. Her dress I tore off her body is gone, her shoes nowhere to be found. All that’s left is a neatly folded pile of my clothes in the chair, my shoes and socks stacked neatly underneath.
Throwing the covers off, I stalk to the bathroom, pushing open the door and nothing. No sign of Reese. I look under the bed and even in the closets, not that I expected to find her there, but fuck me, I was hoping she was just playing some kind of trick on me.
No trick.
She’s gone.
Heading back to the bathroom, I take care of business before searching for my phone. I find it on the nightstand next to the bed. Grabbing it, I have no missed messages or calls. I open the messaging app and send Reese a text.
Me: Where are you?
I wait. I count to one hundred and no reply. Fuck this. I dial her number, placing the phone to my ear. It rings four times before she picks up. “Hi,” she says softly.
Just hearing her voice soothes my worry. “Where are you, babe?”
“Cooper,” she sighs.
“Where are you, Reese?” Fear clogs my throat. Did she change her mind? Did she go back to him? No. She wouldn’t do that. Not after what we shared last night. It was life-changing, to be inside her, to have her naked body in my arms while we slept.
“I think you need some time. We both need some time,” she adds.
“Time for what? I don’t understand. Tell me what’s going on.” I don’t know what she’s talking about, but I can guarantee I don’t like it.
Time.
If she means time away from her, she’s wrong, I’ve done that. I barely survived. What I need is her. Just Reese.
“I need some time, Cooper.”
“How much time?” I manage to ask over the lump in my throat. She’s pushing me away, and I don’t know how to stop her.
“I don’t know. I just… have a lot to work out in my head.”
“About us? Reese, I love you. Let me help. Whatever it is, I can help,” I say, pleading with her.
“Coop.” She sniffs.
Fuck me. Now I’ve made her cry. “Where are you? I’ll come to you.” I stand and begin getting dressed as best as I can with one hand.
“No, Coop. I just need time. There is so much to process and think about. Yesterday I walked out of my wedding and last night… with you. I just need some time.”
Shit. I sit down on the edge of the bed and run my free hand through my hair. I know she’s right. I know she needs to take the time to work through whatever it is she has in her head, but damn it, I want to be the one to help her. I hate I’m part of the problem, that I’m an issue she potentially has to work out.
“Reese, last night meant everything to me. I meant what I said. I love you. I will always love you. You’re it for me. For now and for forever. I’ll give you some space, but please, baby, don’t shut me out.”
I hear a sob on the other end of the phone. “Thank you.”
“How long?” I ask, knowing I’m pushing my luck.
“I don’t know, Cooper.”
“Where are you now?”
“I’m- taking a few days.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that I’m not in town. At least, I won’t be in about fifteen minutes.”
“Where are you going?”
“I’d rather not say.”
“You can’t just go out of town and not tell me where you’re going, Reese.” She can’t do this. She can’t shut me out like this.
“I can, Cooper. I am,” she adds. “I just need some space and time to think. A lot has happened, and I need to process it all.”
“What if something happens? How will I get to you? At least tell me where you’re going.” I don’t like the thought of her traveling alone. In fact, I fucking hate it.
“I can’t. I know you, Coop. You’ll come after me, and that’s not what I need right now.”
“I need you,” I tell her. “In my life, by my side, in my bed. I need you, Reese. Please don’t push me away,” I plead with her. I know I don’t really have the right to ask because I pushed her away first, but I apologized, and she knows how I feel about her. She’s not once told me how she feels about me, about all of this.
“I have to go.”
“No, wait,” I rush to say.
“Coop,” she says on a sob.
Even through the line, I can hear the anguish in her voice. “I love you, Reese. Not just for last night but forever. Nothing is going to change that. Not time, not distance. Nothing. You hear me?” She’s quiet, except for a few sniffles. “Tell me you hear me, Reese.”