Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 72760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
The door opens a second later and Patricia nervously steps through with papers in her hands. She passes one to me and then one to Thorne and as I glance down at it, I realize that it’s the report I’m going to have to fill out that could potentially have Dr. Harding fired.
I quickly thank her while avoiding eye contact, and when I expect her to leave, I glance up, realizing that she’s not going anywhere, just hovering awkwardly by the door. My brows furrow and I watch her for a moment. “Can we help you?” I ask, unable to keep the disdain from my tone.
“I, uhh …” she starts, glancing between me and Thorne. “I owe you both an apology. My behavior toward you has been unprofessional and I can now see what you mean to one another. This is clearly more than just a workplace fling. It’s obvious that the two of you care deeply for one another, and so I must apologize for allowing anyone else to think any less of your relationship. I had a great deal to do with spreading rumors and hate. I regret that my actions have led to this afternoon’s awful event, and I hope that one day, you will both be able to forgive me and that we can move on in the future to work together in a healthy capacity.”
I raise my brows, hardly able to believe what I hear, but before I get a chance to respond, Patricia walks out the door and leaves me, Thorne, and the head of plastics gaping in shock.
CHAPTER 18
THORNE
I watch Autumn sipping from her glass of wine as she curls up on my couch, exactly where she belongs. I love having her in my home, and after a day like today, I don’t think I’m ever going to let her leave.
I walk back from the door with her favorite Chinese takeout and can’t help but notice the way the starlight filters through my floor to ceiling windows and shines upon her like some kind of halo.
She’s radiant. Even after what happened today, she still seems to shine, and every time she looks my way, the smile that brightens her face blows me the fuck away. She’s the one. There’s no doubt about it, the BOOM really does exist, and she’ll be mine until our dying days.
As I come back into the living room and place dinner down on the coffee table, Autumn sinks deeper into the blanket that’s wrapped around her. It’s coming into winter, and despite it being a cold night, I think she’s using the blanket more for comfort than warmth. Either way, she looks fucking adorable all snuggled up. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to just lie down and hold a woman so badly in my life.
She’s been putting on a brave face, but I know deep down that today freaked her out. She doesn’t want to admit it, but she doesn’t have to. I’m not here to force her to face reality; I’m here to help her forget. Today doesn’t define who she is, and it’s only going to affect her if she allows it to. What defines her is how she responds from here on out, how she fought for herself, how she was brave enough to speak out against a man who had the potential to destroy her, how she wasn’t afraid to ask for help. She’s so much stronger than she realizes, and while it was the most horrific thing that could ever happen to a woman, I’m proud of her.
She remains strong and shows that no matter what, he will never bring her down. She’s the winner here. He’ll never take claim over her, he’ll never be rewarded with her fear, and he sure as hell will never be a free man, not if I have anything to do with it.
The thought alone has my hand curling into a fist and pulling on my stitches as I cross the room and kneel down before the fireplace. I shake out my hand, not scared of the stitches breaking but scared of the ass-whooping Autumn would give me if I don’t look after myself.
I find myself grinning as I reach across and grab a few pieces of firewood before positioning them in my fireplace and finding my lighter. “Wait, that’s a real fireplace?” Autumn asks.
“It sure is,” I tell her.
“Nice,” she says, taking another sip of wine and getting up from the couch. She waddles across the living room, struggling with the blanket that she keeps wrapped around her while trying to hold onto her glass of wine. “I just assumed it was one of those fancy electric ones where you just press a button and it goes.” She drops down beside me, squishing in nice and close as she watches me start the fire. “That or a fake one that’s just for decoration.”