Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 85682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
“That’s an awfully pessimistic way of looking at it.”
“Doesn’t mean it’s not true.”
Horse hooves clapped the ground as we went. “I guess in some ways, yeah. But you get stuff out of it too. If feels good to be loved, and to love someone else—parents, friends, whatever. That’s kinda the point in bein’ alive, isn’t it? Lovin’ and bein’ loved.”
A branch crunched beneath my horse, Stormy, as I pondered what he said. “I always thought it was success.”
“Hmm…yeah, that doesn’t surprise me. At least…the old Emerson. Not that I knew the old Emerson, but I can see that bein’ a past version of you. Don’t really think it is now. Otherwise, you wouldn’t live how you do. You sure as shit wouldn’t be keeping to yourself the way you do.”
It was true, but it also wasn’t. I didn’t fight to be the best here. It wasn’t all about climbing my way to the top, then trying to find ways to get even higher. But… “Don’t give me too much credit.” Because it had taken twenty-two stab wounds, a crime of passion, and being arrested and tried for murder for me to see beyond myself.
“Well, why wouldn’t I wanna do that? People should get credit for tryin’, for putting in the effort.”
“Even if they didn’t choose to make the effort but were forced to try?”
He nodded. “There’s been times in my mom’s life that she’s stayed sober. I know she did it for me—because of those letters I told you about. Other times she couldn’t hold on no matter how hard she tried, but what’s the point in tryin’ again if failing cancels out your attempt?”
“You have a point there, but is there a limit to that? Like how many times can you use I tried as an excuse? Also, the situations aren’t the same.”
“You could always tell me what it is, and then we wouldn’t have to talk in riddles. I need to gather more information before I can tell you how I feel.”
I surprised myself by cocking a brow at him and saying, “Nice try, but no dice,” instead of getting angry or shutting down. Sam made it more of a struggle than it should be to be who I was. My instincts to reinforce my walls didn’t seem to have the same power over me when it came to him.
“Welp, can’t blame a guy for tryin’, I guess.”
“You shouldn’t feel bad,” fell out of my mouth, my thoughts taking a road trip back to last night.
“For tryin’? I wasn’t.” He laughed.
“No. Yesterday when you told me about writing notes to your mom asking her not to drink. You said it was hard for you to ask her to quit because it made you feel guilty. That’s not a burden you should have to bear. You asked her because you loved her and because you deserve a sober mom. It’s okay to need certain things, even if it’s for yourself.”
After a quiet moment, he asked, “Are you speakin’ from experience?”
I thought about Daniel then, how he’d wanted me to work less, travel less, be home more. That he’d wanted to get married and have kids. His sister had already agreed to be a surrogate. He’d asked her without telling me, and then it turned into a huge mess because she’d assumed we were ready to try for children. “I just…knew someone. He stayed in a relationship, hoping he would eventually get what he needed, and that never happened. I don’t want that to be you.”
When seconds turned to a minute, then two, and Sam didn’t answer, I turned to him. He was watching me, his body fluidly moving up and down with the horse. He had some kind of… I couldn’t tell what it was, but he was looking at me differently. Maybe like he was seeing more and more of me and building a picture of what that meant in his head.
“You’re a good man.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do.”
“No.” I shook my head. He grinned. Jesus, he was adorable. It was hard not to feed off his hopefulness, his happiness. “Brat.”
“But I make you smile, Emerson Fox. That might be one of my greatest accomplishments. Oh, what did you do with your life? I made Emerson Fox smile…and come his brains out.” He laughed, and I did too. Three weeks. All I could think was that it had only taken three weeks of this arrangement for me to be riding horses with him and talking to him. To share small bits of myself, let him work with me, and watch movies with him.
It was only supposed to be fucking.
“Ah, hell. Now you’re mopin’. Turn that frown upside down, mister. Come on. I’ll race ya.”
As soon as he said it, he got his horse running. Without thinking, I tapped Stormy with my foot and took off after him.