Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 105825 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105825 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
I wasn’t good at this stuff. But fortunately, I knew someone who was.
I pulled out my phone. Glowered at the screen.
And then I called Danny.
27
JD
The phone rang for so long, I thought it was going to go to voicemail. Then Danny’s rough London accent filled my ear. “JD?” he said breathlessly. “Sorry, mate, I was in bed.”
I frowned. In bed? It was seven in the evening, which meant it was only five in the afternoon in Colorado. Why was he—
‘Is that JD?” A soft, female voice, also out of breath. “Tell him I said hi.”
Oh. I closed my eyes and took some deep breaths. Was it possible to get used to the idea of your best friend fucking your little sister? If it was, I wasn’t there yet.
“Erin says hi,” said Danny. He at least had the decency to sound embarrassed. “What’s up?”
“Go somewhere Erin can’t hear you,” I muttered.
I heard him clump down some stairs. “Alright, I’m in the workshop. What’s up?”
I drew in a deep breath. “How do you say you’re sorry?”
Maybe it was my tone or maybe it was because I was calling him, but he got it immediately. “To a woman?”
“Uh-huh.”
“A woman you like?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Let me guess, you got on your high horse about something and wouldn’t back down and left her in tears?”
“That’s about the shape of it,’ I muttered.
“You going to let me ask who she is and what the fuck is going on in New York?” asked Danny.
“Nope.”
He sighed. “Okay. This thing you said: can you tell her you were wrong?”
I’d already thought of that. But I was pretty sure Callahan was right about Miles. I’d told Lorna to keep her safe. Lying to her would just put her in more danger. “No. What I told her was right. I just did it all wrong.” I grimaced. “What do I say to her?”
“Tell her you were trying to do a good thing but you messed it up. Tell her that you know you can be a stubborn, grumpy arsehole. Tell her that you’re sorry, that you’re a work in progress, but you’re trying to be better because she’s worth it. And then ask for another chance. And most of all, show some vulnerability.”
I rubbed at my stubble, saying nothing.
“Shit. I forgot who I was talking to,” said Danny. “Okay, look…if you can’t tell her all that, show her.”
“How?”
“Make a sacrifice. Do something she knows you don’t want to do.”
An hour later, I gently pushed open the door to the yoga studio. Lorna was bent in an inverted V, her ass high in the air. It was fully dark outside and she’d lit some candles around the edge of the room. When the flames flickered in the draft from the door, she looked up. She saw it was me and the air in the room froze.
Then she took another look at me…and stared.
I shuffled my feet. I drew the line at Lycra but I’d been down the street and found a sportswear store. I was in a pair of running shorts, a t-shirt and bare feet.
“I figured I’d take you up on that offer,” I said. “If it’s still good.”
We studied each other in the candlelight. God, she was beautiful. Those big, pale gray eyes searched my face, asking if I was going to hurt her again. And I did my best to look humble and sorry.
“Sure,” she said at last.
She unrolled another yoga mat and I stood next to her, my hulking body dwarfing hers. And for the next hour, she coached me through a whole bunch of poses that looked easy but turned out to be sheer hell. She flowed through them like her body was made of taffy while I felt as clunky and awkward as one of the stone trolls in Erin’s fantasy books. All the muscles I’d been ignoring for the last forty years suddenly had to start working and after a half hour, I was aching like I’d done two hours of weights. I’d thought that the army had hardened me into steel but when we lay on our backs with our legs in the air and did core work, it turned out my core was made of Jell-O.
But it was worth it. Because with every minute I endured, the tension between us unwound a little.
“How do you feel?” she asked me when we’d finished and I lay panting on the mat.
“Like I got run over by a truck,” I said truthfully. “But thank you.”
We stared at each other in the candlelight for a moment.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Didn’t mean to—”
She nodded. “I know.” Her voice was calm, pained…and resigned.
And I suddenly realized that she hadn’t been upset before because she thought I was wrong. She’d been upset because a little part of her thought maybe I was right. She hated the idea, maybe even hated herself for doubting her brother. But she didn’t hate me anymore. And that meant we could fight this thing together.