Total pages in book: 211
Estimated words: 201554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1008(@200wpm)___ 806(@250wpm)___ 672(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 201554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1008(@200wpm)___ 806(@250wpm)___ 672(@300wpm)
Chapter fifty-four
Harper
Eric’s fingers drag through his hair and he looks skyward, and I am reminded of what he said about triggers that create a paralyzing influx of numbers in his mind. Whatever is wrong isn’t about my mother. It’s about him.
My hand goes to his hand, and I turn it over, pressing our palms together but I don’t push him to talk. He doesn’t look at me, his lashes lowering, his expression tightening. I wait, silently letting him know that I’m here, until finally, his eyes open, but he doesn’t look at me. “My father’s on his way to New York City.”
It’s an odd development, unexpected even, but what strikes me now is Eric’s mood, his edginess. He’s a literal warrior, a SEAL who has taken on enemies and the world, including this family, even his father, and yet right now, his father hangs in the air between us like a nuclear bomb about to drop and blow holes in him.
I unhook my belt, and settle on my knees in front of him, my hands on his calves, and I search his handsome face that is all hard lines and shadows, his expression unreadable. “Why is he coming to New York City?”
“Why do you think he’s coming?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “You tell me.”
“To fuck me if he can.” He’s intense. He’s big-time intense.
“I know that we’re new,” I say. “I know that I haven’t spent every day of the last six years with you, but I’ve experienced your reactions to your father to some degree, and it’s not like this. What else is going on?”
He cuts his stare, unhooks his seatbelt and his hands flatten on his knees. I have this sense he’s coming out of his own skin or perhaps drowning in a sea of numbers.
The exterior doors to the plane open and I’m confused, not sure what to do next, aside from just trying to be here with him, the way he decided to be here for me when he followed me back to Denver. I capture his hand in mine and kiss it, and there’s surprise in his eyes that I really don’t understand. A moment later, he’s standing, pulling me to my feet, and kissing me with such torment, I’m quaking inside.
His lips part mine and I’m left panting when he says, “I need you. You know that, right?”
He speaks those words with a deep raspy voice that I feel like a vibration through my body. He needs me. I never thought I’d hear those words from this man. “I need you, too.”
The minute I speak those words, the tension in his body eases, his expression softens. “Show me when we’re finally alone. Come on. Let’s get out of here.” He catches my hand and leads me toward the door, and I hurt for him. My bond with my father was special. His bond with his father is poison, even more so than I’d ever imagined.
We exit the plane side by side and travel the narrow, double-wide stairs into the dark, cold night. I block out the weather as best I can without a coat for protection and manage to glance at Eric’s watch, confirming the one a.m. hour. It’s a brutally cold New York City morning, damp and biting, and far more impactful than the dry, high-altitude weather in Denver. I thought I’d never leave Denver, but I realize now I’ve allowed the beauty of the city and the beauty of the family I once knew in my father and mother, to seduce me, to hold onto me. I didn’t want to let go of what I’d lost in my father, so I held onto what I had left of him. But I have history and memories the Kingston family can never take from me.
The wind gusts again and Eric throws his arm around me, pulling me close. An SUV pulls in front of us and halts, and I thank God, for the blessed relief only seconds away.
By the time we’re at the vehicle, a big brute of a man meets us at the rear door and holds it open. “Savage,” Eric greets as I climb into the back of the vehicle. “Good to see you, man.” It’s a comfortable, easy greeting that speaks of trust, and right about now, trust is good.
The two men talk for a full minute, their voices muffled, before Eric joins me inside, and Savage shuts the door behind him. “We’re going straight to my apartment after all,” Eric announces.
“I thought we were going to the Walker offices?”
“They’re coming to us. Grayson’s wife, Mia, took the liberty of grabbing you a few necessities. They’re stopping by as well.”
“Should they do that? You said my attackers were professionals. What if coming near me, and us, puts them in danger?”
“Grayson already knows what’s going on. He won’t stay away. If I’m in trouble, he’s in trouble. That’s how we operate.”