Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
“Your feelings.”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m talking about the fact that you saw that sweet boy sad, and sure, you didn’t give him words of affirmation, but you gave him the best one of the love languages—acts of service.”
“What the fuck is a love language?”
“It’s the way we as humans accept and give love. There are five main love languages. Acts of service, words of affirmation, physical touch, gifts, and quality time. They say every person has one that leads them.”
I glanced up toward her. “That sounds like some hippie bullshit.”
“What can I say? I’m a lover of hippie bullshit,” she said with a smile.
Hearing Willow cuss was odd. I didn’t know why it stood out to me, but it had.
“You don’t say?” I sarcastically remarked as my body tried its best not to react to her smile. Damn her and those perfect smiles. I wished she’d frown more. It would probably make me feel a lot less confused.
“Why do you try so hard to appear cold, Theo?” she asked. “It’s okay to care, you know.”
“If I wanted a therapist, I would’ve hired one, Willow. And if I did hire one, it wouldn’t be you.”
“I’m not a therapist. I’m just a girl who has a lot of feelings and thoughts.”
“Which you find the need to express out loud at all times,” I mentioned.
She smiled again.
Made me almost want to smile, too.
I prayed that feeling would dissipate sooner than later.
She walked toward me, the sun bouncing off her wet, shimmering skin, and tossed the towel over her shoulder. As she walked up the deck steps, she paused near me. She then looked out toward where I was planning the garden to be. “It’s a bit late into the season to start a garden,” she mentioned.
“I know that. I just wanted Jensen to…” Feel better. I wanted him to feel better because I cared. My words faded off as I realized she’d caught me in my feelings. The feelings I claimed I did not have.
I grimaced.
She laughed.
Our current normal exchanges.
Her smile widened, and she placed a hand on my forearm and squeezed it gently. “I know, Theodore. I know.”
“Theo,” I growled. “Just Theo.”
“Right. Of course. Just Theo,” she remarked sarcastically. Or flirtingly? I wasn’t certain. I didn’t know how to read that woman.
“Willow?”
“Yes?”
“Can you leave me the hell alone?”
She frowned.
Fucking hell.
That didn’t make me feel less confused than her smiles. It actually made me feel…bad. And sad. The last thing I wanted to witness again was a Willow frown. It made my chest ache.
Can you stop being a fucking dick for just one day, Theo?
She wandered into the house, and I stayed there for a moment, trying to shake off the tingling sensation she sent through my system from that small touch. I also tried to shake off the guilt from seeing her lips turned upside down and her eyes filled with hurt.
Magic.
It had to be magic.
Willow Kingsley must’ve been a witch. Otherwise, I couldn’t explain why she made me feel the way she had. It wasn’t even as if she made me feel a few things. No. She made me feel everything. It had been a long, long time since I felt everything all at once, but somehow, she’d managed to unlock that within my system.
Which was quite an odd sensation, at best.
At worst, it was terrifying.
That meant one thing and one thing only. I had to become colder. More distant. Otherwise, I’d drown in the confusion of how that woman made me feel.
CHAPTER 12
Willow
“How has my grandson been treating you?” Molly asked as I sat on a stool at her kitchen island. She was folding her sourdough as she walked me through the process of making said dough. Still, I had low confidence that I wouldn’t mess up my own loaf of sourdough.
Coming to Molly and Harry’s house always felt like walking into a warm hug. Their home had such a rustic feel and was vibrant with color and life. They had a collection of antiques passed down through the years from different family members, too. I figured that was what I loved most about the two of them. They weren’t just two individuals; they were the ones who came before them, too. Molly and Harry Langford had history to their lives. That was why their place felt much more like a home than just a house.
I’d been in many houses and around many people, yet not many felt like a burst of love when I walked into them. Not like Molly and Harry’s, at least. The only place I felt as much love was when I was back at home with my father and sisters.
It was so odd that Theo grew up with those two, yet seemed to be the complete opposite of those who raised him. Nature versus nurture, I supposed. Maybe some kids were just grumpy out of the womb, and there was no getting around it.