Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 83550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Her posture stiffens, but she doesn’t move. “You still don’t believe me?”
I press my lips together before jerking my shoulders. “I don’t know what to believe anymore.” When she tries to pull away, I blurt, “It would fucking kill me to find out you were behind this. Or involved in any way. No one has ever made me feel the way you do.”
Her palm settles on my chest before fisting the material. “Like what?”
The last thing I should do is drop my guard and allow her to peek inside. But that knowledge doesn’t stop the words from tumbling out of me. “Like I’m seconds away from unraveling. Like you’re the only one who calms the chaos raging inside me.”
Her gaze drops to the floor, and for a moment, I think she’s going to shut me out. But then she looks up, and there’s something raw in her expression. “I don’t have all the answers. And even if I did, I’m not sure you’d want to hear them.”
“That’s the thing.” I lower my mouth until it can ghost over hers. “I don’t know if I can trust you. Every time I think I’ve got you figured out, something happens that makes me question everything.”
Her jaw clenches as guilt clouds her features. “I see the way you watch me,” she says, voice breaking. “Like you’re just waiting for me to confess. But I won’t admit to something I haven’t done.”
“The problem is, I think you know more than what you’re telling me.”
Her shoulders slump, and for the first time, she looks… almost fragile. It’s so un-Holland-like that I want to gather her into my arms and press her close. “It’s not that simple.”
“Why not?” I argue, my frustration mounting. “You should trust me enough to just say whatever it is.”
She shakes her head, her hair tumbling around her face. “This has nothing to do with trust. It’s about—” She stops herself, pressing her lips together like she’s afraid to let the truth out. When she speaks again, her voice is quieter, back under control. “It’s about trying to protect people. And that includes you.”
“That’s bullshit,” I snap. “You’re not protecting me. You’re keeping me in the dark. And it’s driving me insane because I can’t stop wanting you, even when I’m not sure if I can trust you.”
Her eyes widen slightly, and for a moment, the tension shifts. There’s a trace of something softer in her gaze, something that makes my chest ache.
“Do you think this is any easier for me?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m afraid you might not forgive me once you find out the truth.”
Her words hit like a punch to the gut, and I take a step back, trying to process what she’s saying. “Then why not just tell me now? Let’s get everything out in the open.”
“Because sometimes the truth does more damage than the lies,” she says quietly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “And I don’t want to hurt you.”
I shake my head, the frustration and helplessness bubbling over. “You’re already hurting me. Every time I see you, every time I feel whatever this thing is between us, it hurts. Because I want to trust you. I want to believe in whatever this is. But you’re not giving me a choice in the matter.”
For a moment, she looks like she might crumble before she sucks in a deep breath and straightens. Her expression hardens into something almost defiant. “You’re right,” she says softly. “You don’t have a choice.”
“That’s not good enough,” I fire back, my voice cracking. “Not for me.”
Her eyes fill with something I’m unable to name as she takes a step in retreat. Her palm falls away from my chest, drifting back to her side. “You want the truth?” she whispers, her voice trembling. “Here it is. I care about you. More than I ever thought I would. And that scares the shit out of me because I don’t know how to make this better without breaking both of us in the process.”
The honesty in her words hits me like a freight train, and for a moment, I can’t speak. My hands itch to reach for her, to pull her close and erase the space between us, but I hold back. “I don’t know how to do this,” I admit. “But I know I don’t want to walk away from you.”
“Then don’t.” There’s a pause as she pleads with me. “Just... don’t.”
Her words linger in the air between us, tenuous and full of unspoken promises. I reach out, my hand brushing against hers, and for the first time, she doesn’t pull away.
It’s in no way a resolution.
But it’s something.
And for now, it has to be enough.
35
Holland
The sun filters through the tree branches as Willow and I stroll across campus. Students mill about, rushing to classes or lingering in groups on the lawn. Even though it’s a beautiful day, my mind remains clouded, burdened by the secrets I’m carrying.