Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 112249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 561(@200wpm)___ 449(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 561(@200wpm)___ 449(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
For a second, Chip’s gaze softened, but just as fast, his stony mask fell back into place, and he continued walking toward his private office. “I guess that leaves you with a choice, huh?”
“What, turn a blind eye?”
That wouldn’t work for Malachi.
Chip opened his hands wide, never once turning around. “Or quit.” Standing in the doorway of his office, he shot a glance Malachi’s way; his expression remained indifferent. “I won’t hold it against you. I wouldn’t have hired you if I didn’t like who you are at your core, Malachi.” He pointed at his chest. “Inside, that shit shines, you know?”
Right.
The good guy.
Chip then disappeared into his office, and the door slammed behind him. Malachi considered, briefly, following the man to finish giving him a piece of his mind. Or to quit. Both, likely. He’d not fully decided. The hum of the phone in his pocket stopped him from pulling the trigger.
For the moment ...
Malachi didn’t expect to see the name that popped up on the phone’s screen. It stopped him straight up.
Blue Eyes.
Two weeks of no contact—except for a couple of texts where Gracen asked him not to call or message until she reached out to him first—put him on unsteady ground to see his pet name for her light up the phone.
He’d asked why, but a part of him knew it had something to do with his meet up with Sonny before he’d jetted out of the valley town in the wee hours of the morning. His inkling on the problem came from Sonny, himself, who sent along his own message to say Gracen had approached him with questions.
Did you lie to me? It was all she had asked. The truth seemed too complicated to explain over a text, so his silence had to be an answer instead. She didn’t text back after that, which he thought was her right to do.
Malachi picked up the call with shaking hands on the third ring. “Hey, Gracen.”
Her voice on the other end was a balm to his overworked nerves even if it wasn’t the greatest time for a call.
“Hey,” she said back. “Do you have a minute to talk?”
Chapter 33
“Okay, great,” Gracen said, still pacing the kitchen in the same fashion as when she’d started the phone call with Malachi, “so I’ll see you in a couple of weeks?”
“Hell yeah. I wouldn’t miss it. Congrats, beautiful—you deserve it.”
A visceral heat speared through Gracen’s body at his praise. Even her cheeks heated with a blush as she mumbled, “Thanks.”
It wasn’t like she needed further proof beyond her broken sleep and constant internal dialogue about just how much she missed this man. No, even his approval came off smooth and sweet. Genuine in a way that made her crave the ability to crawl through the phone to wrap him in a hug. The time she took away from Malachi to think did little for Gracen except make her more aware of the hole in her life
A lonely hole.
Shaped a lot like him, too.
Of course, the hole hadn’t belonged to his lack of presence in her life before he walked into it—but he’d filled it when he was there all the same. Without her even realizing it, maybe. Late nights were a lot later when they didn’t include phone calls with him that crawled into the early morning hours. She had nothing else better to do but think, then, and it also brought her to the understanding that none of it would be enough.
From him, Gracen wanted more.
He made her happy.
With him, she was.
She could be happier, though.
If only ...
She just didn’t know how to tell Malachi as much, and she wasn’t entirely sure that he could give her what she needed, either. It wasn’t entirely his fault. After all, constantly running away from painful things took a lot of energy.
A pitiful thing, her heart.
She was so used to protecting it from getting broke.
“Does the place look the same as when you were young?” Malachi asked.
“A few things do,” she returned about the house that had once been her childhood home.
Her private offer, twenty-five thousand dollars over the asking price before the house was even properly listed, and her personal connection to the property, sold the owner within twenty-four hours of Gracen’s agent making the first call. Her good standing at the bank, excellent credit, a lawyer she’d kept on retainer since purchasing her first business, and her savings account made the rest possible, though. Including a closing date within three weeks of her initial offer.
“Oh?”
“The floors are all original and the woodwork my dad did is intact downstairs,” she explained, picturing the farmhouse’s open concept layout and the familiar details she was able to recognize the moment she had stepped back inside. “They added a big garage with an apartment loft and workshop.”