Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71303 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71303 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
“It’s okay,” I said, his reaction not really landing in my brain. “Let me get this cleaned up.”
I started sweeping up the mess, wondering why Lachlan was frozen in place instead of offering to help. Not that he needed to. But if I didn’t get these shards off the floor, Oscar might cut his paws.
“Can you do me a favor and keep Oscar away until I’m finished?”
When I didn’t get a response, I realized Lachlan was no longer in the room, and a moment later I heard his bedroom door close. I had no idea what he was thinking.
I made quick work of sweeping, then got out the vacuum for all the little bits I might’ve missed. Thankfully, Oscar stayed back, afraid of the suction noise.
When everything was cleaned up and the trash thrown away, I washed my hands before heading down the hall, my adrenaline finally leveling out.
Lachlan’s door was closed, so I knocked gently. “Can I come in?” When there was no answer, my stomach quaked. Had something happened worse than me making a fool of myself in front of him? “Lachlan? Are you okay?”
I cracked the door open a hair, and that was when I saw it—his yellow tent set up in the corner of the room. My heart clenched. I must’ve overwhelmed him, first bringing up the police report and then raising my voice when the dishes crashed to the floor.
Oscar came bounding in and made a beeline for the tent, sniffing all around it like he’d done so many times before.
“Hey, Lach?” I asked, tentative. “If you tell me to go away, I will. Oscar too.”
I waited a beat before he said, “I…I don’t know what just happened.”
“I think maybe…I scared you.” My heart was thumping in my ears.
“Yeah, maybe.” His voice sounded so small and timid. Damn it.
He unzipped the flap and poked his head out, letting Oscar lick his chin. But he kept his gaze downcast, as if he couldn’t look at me right then.
I crouched down to eye level but kept my distance. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. Sometimes people raise their voices and it doesn’t mean anything except a strong emotion or being passionate about something.”
“I know that, logically, but…” He shook his head.
“What did a loud voice mean…before?”
“It was a warning sign.” His gaze latched on to mine. “It normally meant I did something to upset Clint.”
“Did a lot of things upset him?” My pulse throbbed as I tried to keep my voice level. But damn, I wanted to throttle his ex.
He scoffed. “Even small things.”
“Fuck,” I said under my breath.
“Like, messing up meals or not serving him the exact way he liked.” He made a frustrated sound. “He had this thing about his maple syrup being warm, and if I forgot to do that…”
“What an absolute prick.” I curled my fist before thinking better of it, then quickly loosened my grip. “So, he’d get loud and you’d argue?”
“Sometimes, yes. But I mostly tried to appease him because he had this way of making me feel like I was a loser, like I’d fucked up, you know?”
“Gaslighting 101.”
“My father used to pull some of the same shit.”
“With you and your mom?”
“Uh-huh. Sometimes Clint wouldn’t talk to me for days, which would drive me stark raving mad. I’d try everything to get him to interact with me, and when he finally did, it was as if I could breathe again.” As if to demonstrate, he blew out a long breath. “We’d be on good terms for days after, and that really messed with my head.”
“I’ll bet,” I murmured. “That sort of behavior probably messed with your mom’s head too.”
“Yeah, I almost wish… I wish she and I could have had this discussion as adults. There’s so much that makes sense now. Like how happy she was when my dad was in good spirits. As if he controlled the mood of the house.”
“And that’s how you felt with Clint?”
“Yeah. And when he started getting more and more physical, I knew it would only escalate the longer I stayed. And…you know the rest after that.”
I knee-walked closer, needing to be near him. “Can I hug you? It’s okay if you’re not ready.”
“I’d like that.” As soon as I got close enough, I pulled him into my arms. “I’m sorry I was harping on about the police report. I won’t push for that anymore. I was so fired up, I tripped over the rug and smashed our plates. Ugh, what a mess.”
His arms wound around me tighter, and we stayed that way for another minute, just hugging and breathing each other in. “Thanks, for explaining and apologizing. It means a lot.”
I pulled back to look at him. “Friends talk things through. So you tell me if there’s anything I do that makes you uncomfortable, and I’ll do the same.”