Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 121764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
My eyes searched hers, scanning every inch of her face before I found her gaze once more. I took a mental photo and tucked it into the pocket of my heart to hold forever.
“I have had the best summer of my life with you, Grace Tanev,” I said, and every fucking word ripped at my throat on the way out.
Her bottom lip wobbled, but she smiled despite it, and then she leaned up to press a kiss to my lips with the camera still rolling.
We spent the next hour holding one another — Grace asking me would you rather questions that had us both laughing even as our hearts threatened to break out of our chests. I smoothed my thumb over her knuckles where I held her hand, soaked in every smile she threw my way, and tried my best to face the situation the way she was.
I reached for the positive, for all we had to be grateful for instead of all we were losing. But where that came naturally to Grace, it was like pulling teeth for me.
Flashes of the last month played like a movie reel in my mind. I saw every smile, heard every laugh, felt every tremble of her body beneath mine. And far before either of us were ready, time ran out.
I had a ten-minute walk to my gate, and my flight was about to start boarding.
I pushed it off as long as I could, and then when we had no other choice, we both stood, facing each other like nervous school kids. Grace’s cheeks were pink, her hair falling in front of her face as I hooked a hand on the back of my neck.
Then, I let out a shaky exhale, and I reached for her.
My hands wound around her waist, pulling her close as her arms stretched up around my neck. I dropped my forehead to hers, both of us closing our eyes and inhaling together.
And my body rioted.
My chest squeezed so painfully tight I let out a gasp of an exhale. My heart surged, thrashing in my rib cage as my stomach dropped. I felt the uneven pulsing of blood in my ears, felt how the agony ripped through me and demanded to be felt.
“Fuck, Grace,” I whispered, the words breaking us both. “I don’t want to do this.”
I squeezed my eyes shut with the admission, and with that, the tears I’d been fighting back broke free.
They seared a burning path down each of my cheeks, my chest stuttering with the sob I refused to let out. My father had beaten into me that men don’t cry — but fuck, I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t hide the fact that I was shattering.
Grace wrapped me up tighter, and when I opened my eyes to look at her, she was shaking her head, shedding her own tears as she wiped mine from my face.
“Hey,” she said, sniffing on a smile. “This isn’t goodbye. I’ll see you soon, yeah?”
I nodded, biting my lower lip and trying to feel that that was enough. Another tear slid down to my jaw where it met her thumb. She wiped it away as I cursed.
I was fucking crying.
I was fucking crying for this girl.
Had I ever cried, other than when I was a child?
The thought made me pause and feel just how significant that was. Then again, that seemed to be how everything was with Grace. I couldn’t remember ever having a hug before her, or laughing so hard my stomach hurt, or longing for something so badly I was willing to risk everything to have it — even if I couldn’t keep it.
“Go, go,” she said on a laugh, pressing her hands to my chest and pushing me away a few inches. “I’ll see you soon. I’ll be in Tampa for a game before we know it. And it was fun, right?” Her face twisted a bit with that, but she smoothed it out so quickly — an expert at her craft. “We had fun.”
“Yeah,” I said, sniffing. “Yeah, we had fun.”
Now I wanted to laugh — but not because it was funny. Because it was sick. It was a fucking joke to call what we’d shared fun, to give it such a simple, shallow label.
We stared at each other a moment more, and then she pushed me again, smiling as her eyebrows raised. “Go,” she said on a laugh. “Before you miss your flight.”
I grabbed my bag off the floor, slinging it over my shoulder and turning for the exit. I took four steps, but every one felt like I was walking in quicksand, like time was moving in slow motion. And I felt it again — my body rioting, refusing to work properly, refusing to let this be the end.
Suddenly, I halted.
I didn’t have a choice. My legs stopped moving, and I stood there with my back to Grace, heaving each breath that burned all the way down.