Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 132582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Garrett is quiet, so long I think he’s upset. I lift my gaze, finding his. He’s already glaring at me, his eyes hard and cold. “What are you saying? That you want to stop seeing each other?”
“What? No, I didn’t say that at all!”
“Well, that’s what I’m gathering.”
“You’re putting words in my mouth. I’m just saying, with my schedule I can’t promise to always hang out. Plus, you have your job too. Life is getting busy for both of us.” I lift the rim of my cup to my lips, but Garrett reaches over and clutches my wrist before I can take a sip. My heart drums faster as I glance down at his hand before finding his eyes.
“If you’re tired of me, just say that.” His voice is low, icy.
“I never said that,” I reply evenly. My voice comes out steady and I’m glad. Any sign of hesitation and he’ll question it.
Garrett glares, his hazel eyes intense, then he sighs and releases my wrist, raising the hand he just held me with in the air and chuckling. “Look, I’m sorry. All right?”
I side-eye him.
“I just really wanted to surprise you with those movie tickets, so when you told me you weren’t in town, I got a little upset. That’s all.”
“I understand,” I whisper.
“Next time you’ll let me know though, right? If you’re going somewhere?”
“Of course.”
“Good. I’m glad.” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “No hard feelings. Right, babe?”
I nod. “No hard feelings.
We both sip our coffees at the same time, and while I do, I try my best to control the beats of my heart. It’s impossible. My pulse is in my ears, drowning out all noise.
This is what I mean. He’s changed. There’s an edge to him that I don’t like—one I didn’t realize was there until it was too late. At first, he was kind and caring. And when he’d show up at my door without a heads up, I thought it was cute. He’d always pop up with goodies, like flowers, baked treats, or coffee. But after a while, he became…territorial. And don’t get me wrong, I love a guy who can prove he cares, but Garrett cares a little too much, to the point where it's unnerving.
There’s one night in particular that made me realize Garrett wasn’t the man I thought he was. I’d gone to help Faye unload a huge shipment of books at the bookstore she manages. We were there for several hours because she had to stock them and prepare for a launch day for a popular novel. When I was done helping her, I had four missed calls from Garrett and two text messages. I still remember the messages:
WHY AREN’T YOU ANSWERING ME?
WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?!?
They were in all caps. I thought it was strange, and I called him back, but he didn’t answer. However, when I got home, he was parked in the parking lot of my complex, waiting for me. He thought I was ignoring him. He got angry, then he grabbed me a little too roughly when I decided I wasn’t going to argue with him about my whereabouts any longer. When he did that, I kicked him out and didn’t speak to him for a week.
Then he appeared again, knocked on my door with cupcakes, put on that stupidly charming smile, and I took him in and forgave him.
I was stupid…but I also couldn’t help myself because the truth was that without Garrett, my life was dull. I felt every dull, aching moment during the week I ignored him, and it sucked. All I did was drink or get high or sleep. It was depressing. Then I started thinking about how I possibly was guilty—that I should’ve spoken to him about everything like an adult, not gotten upset with him for wanting answers. Like I said, I was stupid.
There are times when I want nothing to do with him, like now…but then I remember, it’s him or I drown myself in tequila and weed, and that makes me so damn lonely and desperate I can’t stand it. But with the way he’s grabbed me, he’ll keep doing it. And I don’t give a damn how depressed I am, or how much I wallow, I’d rather be alone forever than to tolerate a man who maliciously puts his hands on me.
“Oh—before I forget,” he says pushing off the sofa and walking toward the counter. “Boris had the cinnamon rolls today. I snagged two before they sold out.”
“You’re kidding!”
“Not at all. Behold, the cinnamon rolls of glory, baby!”
I burst out laughing as I watch him sit next to me with the box open, revealing two large cinnamon rolls smothered in cream cheese icing.
“They look great. After I shower, we can dig in,” I tell him, standing.
Garrett rises and walks to the kitchen. “Cool. Don’t take too long. I’ll have them nice and warm for you.”