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)
“Em…wake up. You’re havin’ a nightmare.”
I shot up in bed, scrambled away from Sam. I was drenched with sweat…maybe tears too. He’d turned on the bedside lamp, the fear in his eyes brighter than the glow of the light.
My back pressed against the headboard, knees drawn tight against my chest as if I were a child afraid of the boogeyman.
“Em,” he said again softly, then reached up and cupped my face. With a work-roughened finger, he wiped my tears, and damned if I didn’t love how that felt against my skin. Damned if I didn’t love Sam. In the darkness that had become my life, he was the only light I’d allowed in.
I moved close to him, let Sam pull me into his arms. It was him now with his back against the headboard, me between his legs, taking in his heat, the feel of his warm skin against mine, the scent of salt and sweat and Sam…this man who had shaken up my whole world. Who was only supposed to be my weekend fuck but had turned into the thing that kept the blood flowing through my heart.
“I’m tired…so tired…”
“I know,” Sam replied. “I’m here. I got you.”
I couldn’t fight it anymore, couldn’t keep the facade in place. “From the moment my dad caught me with a man and kicked me out, I’ve been running away from feeling anything. Hell, I’ve been doing it even longer than that. Not letting myself be true, hiding who I was, how I felt, then burying it even deeper when I left home. I did it in my job, with my friends, with every man I dated, even with Daniel. Because if I let them in, they wouldn’t really want me. But I can’t do it anymore. I’m tired.”
“I see you, and I want you, Em. Don’t you know that?” He shushed me, kissed the top of my head. Not for the first time, Sam was seeing the vulnerable parts of me, the soft edges I tried to deny, ones that no one before him had witnessed. “Was the nightmare about Daniel?”
“Yes.”
“Is that why you struggle to sleep?”
I nodded. “I see him die over and over. My hands are bloody. There’s a knife there. He asks me why I killed him.”
“Shit. You didn’t kill nobody.”
“He asked about you.” Daniel knew I loved Sam.
He tensed beneath me. “It’s okay to move on. You deserve it. I’m not sayin’ you want that with me, or even that I have a damn thing to offer you—hell, I’m not even out—but you deserve to move on.”
I didn’t reply right away, just let him pet me, hold me, put me back together like he was good at doing. “I’m so tired,” I said again.
“Go to sleep. I’ll chase your nightmares away.”
And somehow, I knew Sam could do it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Sam
Emerson was in deep sleep beside me. I’d stayed awake after he’d passed out, wanting to watch over him like I’d said I would. If there was any sign of his nightmare, I wanted to hold him, to wake him up if need be.
When he rolled away, his body dead weight and his breathing deep and even, I’d curled up beside him and continued to watch. But now it was morning, and it had been hours since I’d heard him whimpering and crying in his sleep, telling Daniel he was sorry. I didn’t want to disturb him or leave him, but the animals needed tending, and I knew Em well enough to know he’d want them taken care of.
I figured it was pretty safe to deal with responsibilities now, so as quietly as I could, I got out of bed, grabbed my clothes, and got dressed.
It didn’t take me too long to deal with the most pressing jobs. Some of the things, like mucking out the stalls, could wait until later.
It was already hot and muggy, but it was a pretty, gray-sky morning, one I wished I could share with Emerson. I wanted to share every morning with him, every night too, and I was getting to the point where I didn’t give a damn who knew. Didn’t care if it made me lose anything or anyone. I just wanted him.
“Hey,” Charles said when I stepped onto the back porch to go into the house.
“Didn’t see you there. What are you doin’ up so early?”
“I always get up this early.” He put his cup of coffee to his mouth and took a drink. “You’re in love with him.”
I shrugged. There was no denying it. I didn’t want to.
“He’s in love with you too,” Charles said, making my pulse kick up.
“He tell you that?” My voice was filled with skepticism and hope.
“He doesn’t have to.”
“That’s what I thought.” I believed Emerson cared about me, I did. But I didn’t think he loved me. I wasn’t sure he could let himself if he wanted to. He’d feel too guilty, too unworthy.