Total pages in book: 20
Estimated words: 18241 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 91(@200wpm)___ 73(@250wpm)___ 61(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 18241 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 91(@200wpm)___ 73(@250wpm)___ 61(@300wpm)
He shakes his head slowly. “Not then, I didn’t. I was furious at you, not just because you ran away but because you didn’t tell me anything. That was a big deal to me. We always talked, Dan.” Matt meets my gaze, and the hurt in his eyes slams into me with crushing force. “We talked about everything.”
Tears sting the backs of my eyes. “I messed up, Matt. Can we do fifteen minutes of pure honesty where we don’t judge each other for what we felt and did back then? This load is getting way too heavy for me to carry, I feel like I’m wading through quicksand.”
It takes him a few seconds, but he eventually nods. “Let’s do that.”
Dragging air into my lungs, I close my eyes and remember the worst days of my life—deciding to leave and actually going through with it. “You were right about me wanting to follow my dreams. Everyone believed I’d grow up to be this amazing artist, and I thought Sweetheart Falls just wasn’t the place to grow and learn. It didn’t offer enough opportunities. You proposed at graduation, and the whole town was there. I felt trapped and scared.”
I stand and drag the chair across from him, still carrying my mug, so we’re facing each other. “I didn’t want to say yes. Not because I didn’t love you, but I really, really wanted to see if I could make it. We’d been together for so long, and I relied on you for so many things, but … I wanted to be independent for once. I had to at least try.”
“I get that,” he says softly.
“My biggest regret wasn’t leaving but not talking to you face to face. I know you would have supported me, but it drove me crazy how everyone I met after the proposal wanted to know which house we’d live in, what wedding dress I’d like, if I’d like a baby right away, how many kids we’d have.” I moisten my lips and look at a point above his shoulder. “We were both eighteen, Matt. Kids were the furthest thing from my mind because I still felt like a kid myself. Even so, that’s no excuse for what I did to you. It was selfish of me.”
Matt leans forward and props his elbows on his knees. “You weren’t selfish, Dan. I was. I was so obsessed with you that I didn’t stop to think if marriage was what you wanted straight out of high school. In hindsight, maybe part of me wanted to trap you because you often talked about the city and the galleries and all that stuff.”
“Matt…”
“I was scared of you leaving and finding someone better than me. I was just a boy from a small town. I had nothing against those city boys.”
“I never liked city boys,” I say quietly. “I met dozens of them, and let me tell you, none of those boys could hold a candle to you.”
It’s true. I met enough boys and men to know that Matt was miles above them. In looks, in attitude, in everything. This ruggedly handsome mountain man is so much more than all of the others combined.
“How many boyfriends have you had there? You have one now? Will someone try to break my door in the middle of the night?” He tries to play it off as a joke, but I know Matt as well as he knows me. My answer matters to him. It’s there with the way he seems to hold his breath.
“I never had one, Matt. You’ve always been my only boyfriend.”
“Why? Didn’t fancy preppy boys?”
I smile sheepishly, swirl my mug, and finish it in three gulps. “I was there for my career. A career that never went anywhere. I had no time for dating. Besides, how could I? You were my standard. No one could live up to that.”
We’ve been so focused on our conversation that we don’t notice the pounding turning into a steady, gentle patter.
My stomach drops away at the way he gazes at me, and it takes every ounce of my willpower to ignore the sweet ache between my thighs. It’s been too long.
He always looked at me like I was the only girl in the world. He does that now, and a wave of tenderness washes over me. It’s frightening but also … freeing.
“I’ll take your mug inside,” he says abruptly and stands to grab it.
His hand wraps around mine, and my body turns to liquid against his warmth and the heat between us. He studies me and hungrily devours every detail, as if he’s trying to commit all of these to memory.
Fighting to find my breath, I ignore my core clenching, but when his thumb grazes my knuckles, I lose the battle. He pins me with a look, something hot and familiar coiling low in my belly. Wet heat blooms between my thighs, and I can’t help letting out a stuttering breath.