Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 134212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 671(@200wpm)___ 537(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 671(@200wpm)___ 537(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
My wrists are seized, and I look up, finding she’s kneeling before me. “I don’t expect a miracle from you. I’m not expecting you to make this all better,” she tells me, her expression clearly trying to make me feel better. I should punch myself in the face. It should be me making her feel better, if that’s at all possible. “I know you can’t do that. No one can.” Her gray eyes scan my face, and the words I should say get swallowed down on a gulp of strength. If I say those words, that’ll be it. Game over. And although I know it’s selfish, I can’t bring myself to say goodbye to her yet. “Having you with me is enough,” she whispers, moving her hold of my wrists to my hands and lacing her fingers through mine.
“I just want you to be happy again,” I admit. “To smile with everything you have, nothing tarnishing it.”
“That’s never going to happen.” Water fills her eyes, and she smiles through her sadness. And it breaks my fucking heart. It’s never going to happen.
Completely lost, I stand up, pulling Lo up too. She tilts her head in question. I have no more words. Words won’t make her feel better.
It’s never going to happen.
I turn and walk out of the bar, leading her. She doesn’t argue. She doesn’t try to stop me. We move in silence up the stairs, and I bypass her room, taking us into mine. Still no objection. Pulling the covers back on the bed, I kick my shoes off and help her in. Then I crawl in behind her fully dressed and snuggle up to her back, squeezing her body to mine. It’s peaceful. Quiet. No words needed. The mattress dips when the dogs jump up, curling themselves around our feet.
“Luke?” Lo says quietly, and I hold her tighter, my way of telling her that she has my attention. She breathes in and exhales. “I love you,” she says quietly, reaching back and feeling at my hair.
Sadness creeps into every one of my veins. Because she doesn’t love me like that. She would never allow herself to.
And even if she did, it wouldn’t be enough to make her happy again.
And it’s her lost happiness alone that makes me feel as broken as Lo.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
During the night, our bodies have moved, and I wake up with Lo’s head on my chest. I make a point of keeping still, not wanting to disturb her. I don’t want to take her from her dreams and bring her back to her stark reality. Her hair, which has dried naturally while we’ve slept, is wild and wavy, fanning my T-shirt-covered torso in every direction around her head. My hand rests on her back and caresses her over her sweater as I look up at the ceiling and come to terms with my loss. This is the last time I’ll have her in the safety of my arms.
Dropping my head to the side, I look out of the window. The sun marking a new day is lost behind dense gray clouds and a light mist of drizzly rain. Gray. Gloomy. It feels like the standard is being set.
Lo stirs, rubbing her sleepy face into my chest, and I wonder what might be running through her waking mind at this very second. Slowly, her head lifts, and I wait for her to search me out. When she finds me, looking up at me through glassy eyes, she smiles mildly and shuffles up the bed, placing herself in my side and snuggling into me. I don’t know if I should be welcoming her easiness or breaking away from it. But once again, the naturalness of it decides for me. I pull her closer and start to stroke her hair. Her body is so warm, and even though we’ve never done this before, it feels so right. I never thought this, waking up with the woman I love in my arms, would ever happen. She’s not mine. Yet, right now, she feels as though she is. And then I think about Pops’s words and wonder if he’s right. He told me I’d know when I found my Milly Rose. Yes. But he didn’t explain that the feelings would be so fucking confusing. “Morning,” I say quietly.
“Morning.” Her finger trails my stomach lightly as I watch its journey, and silence falls between us. I don’t know what Lo’s thinking during the prolonged quiet, and I haven’t got space in my own head to try and consider it. What I’m doing instead is building myself up to what I need to say. “Lo—”
“Luke.” Her traces of my stomach pause, and she looks up at me, smiling a little. “You go first.”
I draw strength through my deep breath and encourage her to sit up, so I can too, telling myself that ripping the plaster off will be less painful than slowly peeling it away. I make sure there’s no contact between us, putting myself on the other side of the bed. Lo’s forehead crinkles, and she pulls the sheets over her dressed body protectively. I push forward. “I’m giving you the money you need for Billy’s surgery in America.” I gage her expression, unable to read it. Her face is straight, her eyes burning through mine. “Lo, did you hear me?”