Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 51713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 259(@200wpm)___ 207(@250wpm)___ 172(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 259(@200wpm)___ 207(@250wpm)___ 172(@300wpm)
Reed did this same shit on and off before I got out. Everyone wants to fill me in on the bad shit.
“Stop,” I say, cutting her off. Everyone I love is holding back and, for the love of God, I just need them there. “I just got out,” I tell her. Emotions riddle the words and because of that, and maybe because I take a step toward her, she faces me again. Vulnerable but wanting. I soften my tone, offering her the parts of me she loves. “Can’t I just have a moment where I see you smile again?”
I used to tell her that her smile made it all okay. No matter what shit we were in, no matter how fucked anything got, if she was smiling it would all be all right and just like back then, she offers me one. Her gaze falls to the floor as the shy smile I’ve held on to for years to carry me through this hell settles on her lips.
With one more step, I close the gap between us to tell her, “That’s my girl.” This time I cup her cheek, my thumb falling on those lips I used to devour.
Both of her hands wrap around my wrist and I think she’s going to pull my hand away, but she doesn’t.
Longing is etched into the shards of green and gold in her gaze. Then in a blink, it’s over. “I’m really tired,” she tells me and it’s my cue to drop my hand.
“Didn’t sleep last night?”
“Yeah …” she answers and peeks up at me again, the tension still there but held back so carefully. “... just wanted to stay up in case you needed something.”
“I’m good,” I tell her softly and add, “You should go to bed.”
There’s a moment I think she’ll kiss me. That she’ll pop up on her tiptoes like she used to and give me even the smallest of pecks. My chest thumps and my blood rushes, knowing if she does, I’ll fucking devour her.
I’ll take her right here and now.
Instead, the moment passes and I watch her go. I wait for her to look back, and she does, at the very top of the stairs. She grips the banister and her lips part like she’ll say something, but then she stops herself and all I’m given is another sleep well.
I could. Ten seconds before she’s gone and that’s when I can breathe. With both hands on the table, I lean over forcing myself to stay right the fuck where I am.
I’ll give her a moment. I’ll let her climb into bed and then I’m going up there.
Rounding the table, I tour her place, picking up odds and ends here and there. Getting a good look at who she is now. Little bits of her show in accent pillows with deep jewel tones and soft blankets laid out on the back of the sofa.
It’s not until I open the drawer in the coffee table that my composure crumbles. There’s not only a framed photo of the two of us tucked away, but also my leather patch I gave her. The one my mother used to wear that I gave Kat the day after I told her I loved her for the first time.
It’s right there, in the heart of her home, but hidden away so no one can see.
Slamming the drawer shut, I run my hand through my hair and second-guess my plan, but only for a moment. Taking the stairs two at a time, I head upstairs and any hesitation I had vanishes when I see her bedroom door open.
It wasn’t this morning. It was firmly shut.
It’s pitch black inside and as I push the door open, it creaks. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust.
And a moment for her to see I’m there.
“Cillian?” she asks in a hushed voice, breathless even.
“Is your bed big enough for the both of us?” I question, my hand already on the door to close it.
With the light filtering in from the stairwell and the lights left on downstairs, they offer a halo around Kat and I’m able to see her nod a yes.
Thank fuck, I nearly groan in satisfaction as I close the door.
My boots come off first, followed by my jeans and then my shirt. My back was to her for the first part, but as I tug off my shirt, I catch sight of her watching.
If we were as we used to be, I’d tease her. I’d ask her if she liked what she saw.
In my mind I see her, I see us: a different version that was never broken and she’d bite her lower lip, sitting up and teasing me back to come see for myself.
A pang in my chest of regret and guilt stays with me as the comforter rustles and the bed groans as I climb in.