Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 122216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 611(@200wpm)___ 489(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 611(@200wpm)___ 489(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
“You really did all those lights just to get my attention?” She leans back, her hands folded in front of her.
“Yes,” I answer with no hesitation, then flip the pancake. It’s golden and perfect.
Reaching over, I flip off the burner with the pot of chocolate, then grab a large coffee mug. The bacon sizzles as I pour her a cup of the brown goodness and add a hefty dose of marshmallows on top.
“For you.” I slide it to her and grab my cup of coffee before flipping the bacon.
She tastes it, then takes an even bigger drink.
“Don’t burn your tongue.” I pour another Christmas tree onto the griddle.
“This is so good, and it has like a little, um, a little kick to it?”
“Mexican chocolate.” I nod. “A bit of spice that doesn’t hit you until after, and it makes you warm and tingly.”
“I’m definitely warm and tingly.” She drops her eyes, her cheeks going up in crimson beauty again.
“Me too.” I continue making pancakes and pour her another hot chocolate once she’s drained her cup and devoured the marshmallows.
“I should probably be weirded out that you went to all the trouble of decorating your yard just to catch my eye.”
“Probably,” I agree easily and drain the extra-crispy bacon, then crack two eggs into the grease.
“I mean, that’s sort of stalkerish, right?” She sips her chocolate slower now, savoring it.
“Would a stalker cook you a delicious breakfast?” I flip another pancake.
“I don’t know. I’ve never had one before.”
“A delicious breakfast or a stalker?” I deadpan.
She smiles. “You’re weird. Like me.”
“I have some quirks, yeah.” I flip the eggs, wait just long enough for them to be over medium, then plate it all up and slide it in front of her along with some maple syrup. “Eat up.”
I crack two more eggs as she digs in.
She moans around a mouthful of pancake, and I have to stand facing the stove for a while afterwards to hide what she’s doing to me. I eat most of my breakfast there, then scoop up my eggs and join her at the bar.
“You can cook. Like, really cook.” She chews her bacon.
“Thanks.” I take a bite of my eggs. “Are you still worried about me, you know, stalking you?” I don’t hold my breath exactly, but I do wait on her next words.
She chews and turns to look at me, her gaze thoughtful. “It’s weird. But maybe it’s a good weird? I mean, I know I can be sort of … tough to get to. I take meds for it. I honestly don’t think I’d be able to leave my house if it weren’t for my prescriptions.” The shame that tinges her voice pulls at my heart.
“There’s nothing wrong with you.” I drop my fork and turn to her. “Nothing at all. Everyone has issues. Anxiety, depression, irrational fears—it’s just that some people hide theirs better than others. At least you’re honest about it.” I press my palm to her cheek, and she leans into my touch. “You have nothing to be ashamed of, okay?”
She takes a deep breath, and her eyes water. “Really?”
“Yes.” I turn all the way to face her. “Anyone who’s told you otherwise is dead wrong.”
A tear escapes the corner of her eye, and I wipe it away with my thumb. “What’s hurting you, angel? Tell me so I can make it better.”
“Nothing now. It’s just … when I was young, my mother always told me I was—” Her breath shudders, and I pull her into my lap.
She doesn’t protest, which pleases me more than I could have imagined.
“Go on, sweet thing.” I wipe another of her tears.
“She told me there was something wrong with me. When I didn’t want to leave the house, she would scold me and sometimes lock me in the closet or threaten to leave and never come back. There was a lot.” She sniffles. “A lot of things she did to try and make me ‘normal,’ but none of it worked. I still couldn’t go into crowds, got anxious whenever I met new people, couldn’t raise my voice to be heard, couldn’t do anything right in her eyes. So I sort of turned inward even more, I guess. Because it’s safe in here.” She taps her chest. “In here, I’m fine.”
I grit my teeth, anger seething inside me that she was made to think she was defective somehow. “You’re perfect, angel. Just like you are.”
“I can’t believe that,” she whispers.
“Believe it.” I gently turn her chin so she has to look in my eyes. “Believe me. I think you’re amazing.”
“You don’t know me.” She shakes her head.
“Then tell me about you.” I wrap my arm around her waist. “Tell me your job and your likes and dislikes.”
She finally smiles a little, and the vise around my heart loosens. “You seem to already know my likes and dislikes.”