Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 82747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
"What did I do wrong?" I ask, knowing that she's not going to betray her friend's trust, but I can't hang up, not having made an effort.
Another wave of silence proves my mental point.
"Just give her some time," Sage whispers. "Riley isn't accustomed to people... finding her attractive. It's hard for her to wrap her head around."
My brows dig in closer together. "Are you serious? That woman is the sexiest person I’ve ever laid eyes on."
"Have you told her that?"
"I'm sure I have."
If I haven't said it with words, I sure as hell know I've told her as much with my actions.
"That tells me that maybe you haven't. She needs the words, Mac, and then she needs you to prove that you mean them. And for it to get through her thick head, you may have to say it and prove it over and over."
"I figured I had with the number of times... you know what... that's private."
"And I appreciate you not sharing more about the time you've spent with my friend," Sage says with a weak laugh. "These are things you need to be saying to her."
"Kind of hard to do when she's avoiding me to this extreme," I mutter. "She didn't come home last night, obviously. She won't answer when I call. She hasn't responded to texts. Will you let me into your house so I can talk to her?"
"I'm on her side," Sage answers immediately. "I can't do that. You know I can't."
"You don't seem to be Anti-Mac."
"I'm not. Far from it, but my loyalties are with her, no matter what my opinions are about you and this entire situation."
"I can respect that, " I say, even though it gets on my very last frazzled nerve.
"I can tell you that she isn't working at the store today."
She doesn't say another thing before ending the call. I appreciate what she didn't say. I think that so long as I stay away from Riley's house, she'll go home at some point this morning, and I can talk to her then. I just can't be there when she shows up, or she'll continue to avoid the place even though it's hers.
If I thought last night was the longest night of my life, I guess today will be the longest day. I know, without a doubt, it will end with us discussing what I needed to tell her yesterday, but I'm not as certain of the outcome right now as I was before she bolted yesterday.
Chapter 33
Riley
I'm staring up at the ceiling, wondering if it's possible for a back to break just by sleeping on a horrible sofa.
Sage warned me, but I figured the couch was better than what I could possibly be facing at home.
I think a firing squad might've done less damage to my body than what I'm experiencing right now.
I turn my head, wincing, when I sense Sage coming down the hallway.
"Who calls this early in the morning?" I ask when she comes into my line of sight.
"It was a... umm... a telemarketer."
If my head were in a better space, I'd challenge the lie, but I just don't have it in me. I spent all night tossing and turning. My inability to sleep has more to do with the thoughts I can't stop from running through my head than the uncomfortable sofa.
"Do you need a ride to the hospital?" she asks with very little humor in her tone.
"I might," I mutter, wincing when I try to reposition myself to sit. "Jesus, I feel eighty."
"It'll take a week before you work the kinks out, and if you stay again tonight, you'll probably have permanent damage."
"If you want me gone, just say that," I whisper with a chuckle.
"You're more than welcome to stay," she offers as she walks toward her kitchen. "But I'd line up your wheelchair before you lie back down this evening. Coffee?"
"A gallon if you can spare it," I answer as I stand, aches running over every inch of my body as I stand and stretch, cautious of the low ceiling as I lift my arms over my head.
I join her at the tiny kitchenette table once I've done enough moves to make a Pilates instructor proud.
"What are your plans for today?" she asks as she passes the cream for the coffee.
"I don't really have any," I confess. "I may just curl back up on the sofa and watch daytime TV like I did when I was sick as a kid."
"Maybe a shower and a brush can be tossed in there?"
I laugh at the scrunch of her nose. "I don't stink."
"But you will eventually. Just looking out for you, friend."
I lift my cup of coffee to my lips, wishing that I wasn't such a coward because I'm pretty sure this is decaf, and I need more than my normal intake of caffeine to survive the day after the night I had.