Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 127(@200wpm)___ 102(@250wpm)___ 85(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 127(@200wpm)___ 102(@250wpm)___ 85(@300wpm)
“What kind of feelings?”
“Hope, for starters. You make me want to imagine a future; that’s something I haven’t allowed myself to do since before I went inside. I had an interview today for a new job, and I’m pretty sure you were the reason I got it.”
“Wait, really? That’s awesome. Tell me everything.”
He offers me the bottom point of the ice cream cone and then wipes his hands on a napkin. “It’s just a carpentry job through a prisoner re-entry program. But it’s decent money, and I’ll get to work with my hands.”
“Good. You need to furnish your new place. Maybe you can make yourself some furniture.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time.”
“No?”
He shakes his head, pulls his cell phone from his pocket, scrolls, and angles the screen toward me. Looking down, I see an expertly crafted table in shining dark wood with a set of four chairs.
“Did you make this?” I ask. It looks like a photo straight out of a furniture catalogue, and a fancy one at that.
“I did,” he confirms, and I see the glow of pride all over him in the light from his phone. This is something he’s good at.
“Why work for someone else, then? Why not just keep making stuff like this on your own and selling it?”
“Lumber’s expensive, and these pieces are incredibly time-consuming. Plus, I don’t have a workshop, so…” Lucas shrugs. “Everyone’s gotta start somewhere. So, this is me. Starting over.”
“Well, I think it’s fantastic. But what did you mean when you said I was the reason you got the job?”
He slides his hand into his pocket. “You reminded me how it felt to fight for something I wanted. And right now, I want to be the man you deserve.”
My chest squeezes. I press my forehead to his chest and sigh with pleasure as he runs his fingers through my hair. My whole life, I’ve fought hard to stay positive in the face of pain and rejection. It’s not easy to see the silver lining in every situation, but the thought that I could inspire a good man like Lucas to dream of a future for himself makes it all worth it.
“Will you make something for me some day?” I ask him.
“Of course,” he says. “Anything you want.”
“Anything?” I glance up at him with a cheeky grin.
But he nods solemnly, like it’s a vow.
“Anything.”
I tap my fingertip against my chin. “Maybe a bed,” I say, not meaning to be suggestive, but his lips quirk all the same.
“It would be my pleasure,” he says.
“I think you mean our pleasure.”
He presses his lips to mine. I open my mouth to him, letting chocolate and vanilla mingle with strawberries and cream. Just when my knees are danger of buckling out from under me, he pulls back with a solemn expression.
“Look, Tatum, back to your question—”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Now, hang on.” He runs his thumb across my bottom lip. “I get that you’ve been dealt a shit hand in your young life. Lots of folks who haven’t gone through a quarter of what you’ve been through haven’t turned out half as well. And yet, somehow, you’ve ended up kind in an inconsiderate world. You could’ve been cold, but you’re a goddamned ray of sunshine personified. Why do I like you? Because you could have been a little gray rain cloud, but instead you’re a burst of color. That’s why.”
I stand there, at a complete loss for words, with my jaw hanging. But where my voice fails me, my body takes control. Gripping him by the knot of his tie, I draw his lips to mine. We kiss and kiss some more, bodies pressed firmly together, until the metallic jingle of a dog’s leash pulls us back to Earth.
“Guess I should probably get you home.” Lucas takes my hand as we walk back in the direction of his truck. I float beside him, my mind swimming and body pulsating with every step. Lucas sees my scars. He sees where I’m most sensitive, and he handles those areas with the tenderness they require, like he’s always known where they are.
He says I make him want to imagine a future.
I’m already there.
“Do you want kids?” I ask suddenly.
Lucas laughs like I caught him off guard, the skin around his eyes creased with amusement. “Not tonight, but someday, sure.”
“How many?”
He’s quiet for a few seconds. “Two or three, I think. You?”
“Two,” I say, “a boy and a girl. But I’m open to other suggestions.”
Damn, Aunt Nina was right. I’ve got it bad. My cheeks are smoldering, and I’m glad for the cover of night to hide the blush. I glance over at Lucas, who’s gazing straight ahead.
“What are you thinking about?” I ask.
He stops walking and turns to take my other hand so that he’s holding both. “I’m thinking I really hope you get exactly what you want for the future. Because you deserve it.”