Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 131821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Noah smiles softly, gently urging me to move. “I heard. That’s how I know we don’t have a lot of time. I don’t know what’s going on, but I do know you have to decide if you want to wait for him to come back or if you want to be gone when he does.”
I don’t want to be gone when he does.
I have to be.
I allow Noah to lead me to the curb, and we climb inside.
Just before we take the right turn off the street, my eyes flick to the mirror, and sure enough, there he is, standing at the edge of the driveway.
When the car turns, tearing him from my sight, it’s like a crack in the earth’s surface, a thundering boom that jolts deep in my chest, and I suddenly regret everything I said last night. I want to take it all back.
That’s what he does to me, though. He makes me forget everything I’ve lost, because with him in my life, I’ve gained so much more.
Why would I ask for time?
I don’t need time.
No, that’s not right. I do need it, but I need more of it with him, not without. “I think we should go back.” I turn toward Noah.
Noah looks over at me, a sorrowful expression on his face, as if he knows what I’m going through. He understands the overwhelming emotions that come with love and loss and everything else both bring. He lost everything, too, hit rock bottom before he found a way to start the climb back up.
Noah pulls to the curb, speaking softly. “We have a little wiggle room, so long as we’re on the road in the next half hour.”
“That’s perfect. I need…just five more minutes.”
Just five more minutes.
That would only make you want five more.
My entire body locks tight, my vision blurring as a weight like I’ve never known falls over me.
My mind reels as I search for the memory those words live in, but it’s not a memory, at least not a real one.
They’re from my dream.
My dream of Deaton.
I grip the door handle, my knees bouncing.
Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.
Deep brown eyes and soft dark hair.
Strong hands and callused fingers.
I close my eyes and concentrate.
And there it is.
There he is.
Mason’s handsome face, right there across from me. Beside me.
Above me.
My body starts to shake, months’ worth of dreams assaulting me, one after another.
“You should have seen the sunset…”
“I did.”
“He is so going to be one of those beach boys when he grows up.”
“I look forward to seeing that.”
“He’s you, Payton, and maybe he’ll be a bit of me one day, too.”
“Why are you so far?”
“I’m right here, baby.”
A choked cry escapes, and I slap my hand over my mouth.
It’s him.
It’s…Mason.
He’s been the man in my dreams, not Deaton.
But for how long? When did I lose him?
Tears fall in steady streams, rolling down my cheeks in quick succession as a cold, hard hate creeps through my veins.
How could I?
“Payton?” A soft hand brushes my arm, and I jump, remembering where I am.
With panic in my eyes and guilt so goddamn heavy I might pass out, I meet Noah’s gaze.
“What do you need from me?” he gently asks, a knowing look in his eye.
“Drive,” I manage to choke out. “Please, drive.”
Noah says not a word, but the vehicle shifts into motion, and my mind spins with each turn of the wheels.
I don’t know how I missed it.
I should have known, should have seen it coming, but I didn’t.
I was blindsided, now smacked into reality with the hardest, rawest of truths I ignored but can no longer deny. It’s a reality so painful, I’d swear my heart was literally bleeding if I didn’t know any better.
The love I hold for the boy who is no longer here…is but a spark to the flame of the man who is.
And that’s the ugly truth right there. That’s where the fear takes root.
The death of Deaton left a hole in my heart, but that hole has been filled.
It overflows now, liquid warmth pouring through my every vein and covering me in a blanket of belonging I’ve never experienced before.
It’s completely and utterly terrifying in an entirely new way.
Because what happens if that blanket is ripped from my back and I’m left exposed and colder than ever?
What happens to my innocent baby boy if I fall to my knees, and this time I can’t get back up, because that is exactly what will happen. There isn’t a doubt in my mind. If faced with the loss of Mason Johnson, I will shatter into a million tiny pieces, never to be put back together again.
Losing him would be my undoing, the final blow to my already battered being.
He put me back together, but if he was gone, no one could repair the damage that would cause.