Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 81986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
The compliment felt equally odd on my lips, a word I seldom used. Lovely didn’t capture all the emotions surging through me either. Come in and stay awhile. Some long gone grandparent or elderly aunt’s voice echoed, more of the memories that wouldn’t stop coming.
“It’s…cozy. Welcoming. Makes me want to sleep for three weeks.” I gave an unsteady laugh.
“After a shower.” Sam steered me past the bed and the pillowy bedding I wanted to get lost in. The bathroom was nothing short of a revelation. In addition to a toilet, a shower stall tucked against an eave and a narrow pedestal sink created enough room for a Japanese-style soaking tub. Small but deep and as inviting as anything I’d ever seen.
“Wow.”
“Shower or tub, your choice. I’ll take Buttercup outside for a before-bed pee, then put some pajamas for you on the doorknob. You’ll feel more yourself after you get cleaned up.” And with that, Sam was gone, shutting the door behind him, leaving me to remove my hopelessly rumpled and damp clothing.
Looking at myself in the mirror over the sink, I felt a level of exposure beyond my naked skin. More yourself. I suppressed a cackle. Who even was that anymore? Who was Worth Stapleton?
Unable to answer my own damn question, I shivered, as weary as I’d ever been, yet without a clue how I was supposed to sleep next to Sam, let alone find a way back to the me I used to be.
Chapter Four
Sam
Worth Stapleton was currently naked in my bathroom, and my inner teenager, the one I’d thought I’d banished, kept wanting to squeal. Moreover, he was going to sleep all night next to me in a pair of my flannel pants and a T-shirt advertising a youth fun run we’d done a few years back. The part of myself that refused to give up the ghost on this decades-old crush was giddy and bouncy.
But the adult part of me, the more pragmatic and sane part, was seriously worried about Worth. Every syllable from him sounded more dour, doom-and-gloom words matched by a flat affect. I’d seen enough serious depression to know all the signs of a major crisis. Not to mention, whatever was going on with his stomach was troubling.
After finding an old belt to fashion into a makeshift leash for Buttercup, I took her outside while texting with my doctor friend. On the way back into the house, Buttercup caught a glimpse of Delilah lurking on the couch in the living room.
Yap. Yap. Yap.
Hiss.
As expected, my cat, a sleek, stately Siamese mix, looked positively murderous at the intruder’s presence. Excessively vocal under the best circumstances, she proceeded to hiss and yowl her displeasure before fleeing up the stairs when I tried to come near enough to pet her.
I’d have to soothe her hurt feelings later, hopefully before she presented me with a mouse or hairball as a token of her anger. Right then, however, I needed to check on Worth. I didn’t want to leave him alone too long, especially once the shower clicked off. Luckily, he emerged shortly after as I pulled on my pajamas. My clothing fit him surprisingly well. Like me, Worth had a slim build, but his frame was slightly broader, making it more evident that his stomach problems had taken a toll. His pallor wasn’t great either—pale and sallow with dark circles under his eyes.
He needed to be taken care of. And foolish though it was, apparently, I was all too willing to volunteer.
“Here.” Needing to distract myself from the droplets of water clinging to his blond hair and strong neck, I pointed at the over-the-counter meds I’d laid out with a cup of water on the bedside table. “Doctor got back to me. Whitney says to try this cocktail of stomach meds to get some rest tonight before she sees you tomorrow. But if you vomit blood or otherwise get worse, we should go in sooner.”
“I’ll be okay.” Worth didn’t sound like he believed his own words, but he swallowed the medication, which was at least a minor win.
“You will. Medication, therapy—”
“Whoa. Hold up.” Setting the water cup back down, he held up his hands. “Who said anything about therapy?”
Time for some tough love. “Do you think you’re the only person who’s ever had it rough? Only person to assume your life is over because of some misfortune?”
Worth gave me a long, considering look that dug into a history I’d rather forget.
“I’m not so far gone that I’ve forgotten everything. Monroe and Holden have had their share of tragedies. Your family too. Sienna was older than me, but I remember.”
“Yeah.” I sucked in a harsh breath. He’d said my sister’s name aloud, something most didn’t, especially these days, over twenty-five years since she’d run away from home at seventeen, never to make it back again after being killed in a pedestrian traffic accident in Portland.