Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 145676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 728(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 728(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Such a simple act of waking late would normally cause him great anxiety as he wondered what he’d missed and how in the world he’d catch up his day, but now it made him grin like a Cheshire cat. He could feel the constrictive bonds that had held him in a constant state of anxiety relaxing their grip. Landon. Images of the man filled his thoughts. Robert had been right to fight to come to Germany. He had needed Landon to convince him to rethink the possibilities of forever. Today, although really too early for such an assumption, he didn’t sense the heavy burden of oppression or dread that always greeted him when he woke. Robert did a full body assessment, grinning broader when his initial thoughts held.
Now, he had to make sure he harnessed whatever this was. Landon. His mind wandered again to the dark-haired sergeant. The guy was handsome as sin. He’d always been attracted to dark and devilish-looking men. And he stopped his wayward thoughts right there. He wasn’t sure he should let his mind go roaming freely—it wasn’t yet on the short list of approved activities to keep himself on this side of depression. This calm was too precious and fragile. He needed to focus on a full recovery before he let too much back into his life.
He looked around at the cold white walls as if seeing his small room for the first time. He’d never thought about it until now, but it was empty. Not that there wasn’t furniture there. It had been a quiet place for him to hide in his grief. There were two beds, one that he’d never used before. There were also two locker style pieces of furniture, two desks, and two chairs. He hadn’t used those either. The room lacked character and bordered on sterile. He’d never been a messy person, but this was ridiculously tidy even for him.
Maybe the room was a metaphor for the last nine months—don’t think about that either.
Maybe a good old-fashion cry with a commiserating friend was what he had needed the most. His smile gentled as he rose, purposefully leaving the bed unmade as he reached for his cell phone. He had a personal friend for the first time in a long time. Of course, he had work acquaintances—lots of those—but when the workday ended, they all went their separate ways. He considered Landon’s friendship an entirely different entity.
From the first moment he’d looked into the sergeant’s dark eyes, he’d felt the draw pulling them together. The man had showed him kindness and listened without judgment. Landon’s understanding of his family and the carefully placed words had methodically stripped back layers of the protective walls Robert had been hiding behind to help cope with this tremendous guilt. Robert had always known his fathers had something special, but the sergeant had shown him the truth. His fathers were two halves of a whole. Soul mates were real, and Robert had lived his life with two men who were ultimately one.
There was no way he could change what he had or hadn’t done. Whether or not his daddy’s life was always going to end the way it had didn’t change the fact he could have done things differently. He’d have to live with that knowledge for the rest of his life, but Landon had offered him solace in the understanding that wherever his parents were, they were together. Robert needed to pick himself up and honor their extraordinary legacy in every step he took for the rest of his life. And he would. What a heady thought and tremendous redirection of his life.
Robert sat in the chair instead of on the edge of the bed just to use something inside this room besides the bed—to give it purpose. He rolled his eyes at that. Maybe he was taking all this meaning of life a little far, but whatever.
He stared down at the phone screen and his stomach dipped when he realized there were eighty-eight unread text messages. The sheer volume seemed a little daunting, so he chose his sister’s text messages first. Forty-three of the eighty-eight messages were from her. He scanned the list of messages, not really reading them, knowing if something had gone wrong, she would have made sure he knew.
The last text message she sent was in capital letters, showing her irritation. “I’VE NEVER GONE 26 DAYS WITHOUT SPEAKING TO YOU. There was a time I would have appreciated that, not today though. PLEASE MESSAGE ME BACK, BRATBERT.”
He grinned at the nickname she’d given him when they were children, trying to decide if he should make it twenty-seven days just to get further under her skin. As a teenager, he thought his towering height and strength automatically made him superior to his sister. He’d go out of his way to beat her at every task that required muscles or height. He’d purposefully go into the kitchen pantry and place everything he could out of her reach and then practiced becoming a master at opening jars—pickles, mayonnaise, jelly—all just to be better than her. She’d get so frustrated with him when he’d pluck the object out of her hands and open it with just a pop. He loved that memory. Those were the only arguments he ever heard from his fathers. His daddy would get on to him for overpowering Autumn. His dad seemed to understand what was going on with him and tell Kane it was part of growing up.