Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
They were both so shocked I was actually dating someone serious enough to bring home that they agreed without argument.
“Eww, what’s that smell?” Kendall asks, knocking me from my thoughts. I glance over and see she’s referring to the garlic I minced earlier and just added to the pan.
“Garlic.”
“I don’t like that.” She shakes her head and gags, jumping off the counter and walking over to the cabinet to grab us a couple of plates.
“It won’t be as strong once it’s all mixed in.” I've been cooking while Kendall bakes because we’re hiding out from the media until Kendall is ready to go public. We’ve spent weeks eating out while on our road trip, and we both actually enjoy eating at home. I’ve been cooking for the guys and me for years when our meals aren’t cooked for us, and Kendall has always enjoyed baking.
“What time do you want to leave tomorrow?” she asks, pouring us each a glass of wine. “Brunch at my parents’ place is at eleven, but I like to get there early to hang out.”
“Whatever time you want.” I take the food off the stove and plate us both a good-sized portion. One thing I’ve learned about Kendall is that she loves to eat. In return, she busts her ass in the gym with her personal trainer, but she’d rather do that than miss out on all the tasty food.
I bring the plates over to the table and sit next to her, setting her plate down in front of her. I cut mine up and am just digging in when Kendall makes a gagging sound, then runs to the sink, throwing up whatever she had in her stomach.
“You okay?” I ask, grabbing a couple of paper towels so she can wipe her mouth.
“Yeah, I think it’s the garlic. It’s making me feel sick.”
“Maybe you’re coming down with something.” I lift my hand to her forehead, and she feels a little clammy, but it could be from throwing up.
“Ugh, maybe.” She groans. “Would you be super offended if I just ate a bowl of cereal?”
“Of course not. Go rinse off and take some vitamin C, and I’ll bring it to you in bed in case you’re coming down with something.”
She smiles softly at me. “Thank you.”
After putting the food away in the fridge for another night, I grab her a bottle of water, a vitamin C capsule, and make her a bowl of cereal—her go-to when she’s not up for eating something heavy. I bring it to my room, setting it all on the nightstand for when she gets out.
While I’m waiting for her, my phone rings, and the name on the caller ID makes me hit answer immediately.
“Gage?” I breathe, walking out of the room.
“Hey, Dec.” Those two simple words have me tearing up. The last time I heard his voice was months ago.
“Fuck, Gage. You okay?” I choke out, squeezing my eyes shut and praying the image of him lying in his room doesn’t appear.
“I’m okay,” he says back. “But…” he breathes out, and I hear the words he can’t say. He’s not ready to come home.
“It’s okay. We’re here whenever you’re ready.” I try to keep the emotion out of my words, but it’s hard when all I want to do is beg him to come home.
“I just wanted to say thank you for saving my life.”
Fuck, this guy. “Gage… You don’t—”
“Yeah, I do,” he says, cutting me off. “I need you to know how thankful I am for you. I’ll never forget what you did. I… I gotta go,” he chokes out. The line goes dead before I can argue and beg him not to end the call.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Kendall asks, framing my face with her delicate hands. She’s freshly showered and smells like her signature scent. “Why are you crying?” She swipes a tear I didn’t know had fallen, and I pull her into me, nuzzling my face into her damp hair. “Dec, you’re scaring me.”
“Gage called to thank me for saving his life.”
She stiffens at my words. “Is he coming home?”
“He didn’t say.” I replay the quick conversation in my head, and it hits me. “He didn’t say,” I repeat. “He was calling to thank me, and it almost sounded like…” Fuck, no. It couldn’t be. Gage wouldn’t do this.
“Sounded like what?”
“Like goodbye.”
Her eyes widen, on the same page, and I quickly call Gage back, only to be sent to voicemail.
Me: Your call sounded like goodbye… Tell me I’m wrong.
Gage: If you’re worried about me doing something like I did before, don’t be. That will never happen again.
His reply has me sagging in relief. He didn’t say it wasn’t a goodbye, but at least he’s okay, and right now, that’s all that matters.
Me: I’m here always.
Gage: Thank you.
“He’ll come home,” Kendall says. “He just needs time.”