Total pages in book: 199
Estimated words: 200280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1001(@200wpm)___ 801(@250wpm)___ 668(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 200280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1001(@200wpm)___ 801(@250wpm)___ 668(@300wpm)
Thank God.
“You need to calm down,” I tell him again, looking into his angry eyes.
He remains silent though.
Silent and staring. Breathing harshly.
Which is fine.
As long as he’s not doing anything rash because of me. Because he thinks he needs to protect me from some unseen grave danger.
And God, how is it possible that people can’t see that?
That people can’t see how protective he is. How loyal and safe.
I’m so engrossed in watching him and thumbing his cheek, focusing on his calming breaths, that I don’t realize we’re surrounded by people. Not until Conrad says, “It’s fine. Everything’s under control.”
Which is when I look away from Ledger — who I don’t think has a clue that we’re not alone anymore — and find that the entire team, including some of the coaches and staff members, are flooding the hallway.
Shit.
Are they going to think that he’s causing problems again?
“Hit the showers,” Conrad says, emerging from behind me. Then, to Stellan who cuts through the crowd to stand in the front, “Now.”
Stellan nods and gestures for the team to clear out the space.
Which they do except for the third Thorne brother, Shepard. He stands there with a frown — God, Stellan and Shepard look exactly alike, don’t they? It’s so hard to find a difference between their eerily identical faces, dark eyes and dark hair — watching Ledger and Conrad.
“Shep.” Conrad jerks his chin at him. “Now.”
He doesn’t like it; I can see it on his face but he eventually does it and leaves. And with a final look at Ledger and me, Stellan leaves too, leaving the hallway empty once again.
I breathe out a sigh of relief and Conrad says, “You can use my office.”
At that, Ledger glances at his brother and a rough tone, he says, “You’ve got something to say, you say it to me. Not to her. Not in her condition.”
Conrad stares at his brother for a few seconds before jerking out a nod. Then, to me, “It was nice talking to you, Tempest. Take care of yourself.”
Breathing out, I nod. “Thanks. You too.”
And then, he leaves, strides down the hallway much as his youngest brother had done only a few minutes before. Reminding me once again about the similarities between them.
But then I don’t have the time to think about these things because stepping away from me, Ledger is grabbing my hand and pulling me in the opposite direction, quite possibly to Conrad’s office. When we get there, he pulls me inside and closes the door, pinning me to it.
All impatient-like.
Then, putting his hands on the wood as if he’s going to do a push-up, he looks me over. From the top of my head to the bottom of my flats, and I let him do it. Because I know from experience that he isn’t going to be satisfied if he hasn’t made sure, on his own, that I’m really and truly okay.
Just one of the things that he does ever since he started going to practice.
Probably because he isn’t with me all day and he thinks that not watching me like a hawk 24/7 may bring harm upon me.
So yeah, if he was bad when we’d just found out about my pregnancy, he’s even worse now. With his constant worrying and treating me like I’m made of silk and feathers.
Of course I let him do it all, because arguing with him is futile. Plus I really want to tell him this.
“You shouldn’t have done that, Ledger,” I tell him. “You shouldn’t have had an argument with Conrad like that. Now everyone’s going to think that your therapy isn’t working and what if they really kick you off the team? What —”
“Fuck therapy.”
“Ledger —”
“You okay?” he asks with a frown.
“You need to take it seriously, Ledger. Your therapy, your game. Your career. I know you said you’re only doing it for us but it needs —”
“Are you,” he enunciates every word, “fucking okay?”
I watch his impatient face, lined with agitation.
With worry.
About me and the babies.
I know when he’s like this, I can’t get him to listen to anything. I can’t get him to see my point.
And God, I want to.
So badly.
I want him to understand that as much as I love that he’s taking his responsibilities seriously, there’s certain things that are just for him. Certain areas in life that he’s allowed to be selfish about, especially if it’s related to his dream: soccer, his career, the European League.
I know he hates therapy. It’s pretty clear every time he comes home from his sessions. He’s more agitated and angry than he usually is after spending a day with his brothers. And I want him to understand that it doesn’t have to be this way. He doesn’t have to treat his sessions like chores, something to simply keep his job. I know they’re mandatory but he really can make use of them. Maybe it can help repair his issues with his brothers.