Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 43920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 220(@200wpm)___ 176(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 220(@200wpm)___ 176(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
“I think this is probably what hell is like.”
He laughed, and as always, the sound ran through me, making all the places deep inside warm and ripe with feeling that had been missing for so long.
“You need to go away,” I found myself saying.
“Oh look, once you get through the gates, you have a long-ass driveway leading to a huge curve up there. That’s fun.”
“Did you hear me?”
“Of course I heard you, but just because you still like the sound of my laugh is no reason to get pissed off.”
I walked faster.
“You have every right to be mad,” he apprised me, remaining at my side with those long legs of his. “But again, I’m not the same person I used to be.”
“Explain,” I muttered through my teeth, angry at myself for asking but needing to know.
“I mean, I did need to go and see what me and the band could be. That was really important. But what I discovered along the way was that I don’t need to be inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame to feel like my life had meaning. I don’t need to be the greatest-selling artist of all time or have a one-in-a-million career. I just need to make records, see some fans, say thank you, and most of all, have a home and a man there waiting to love me.”
My heart clenched in my chest, no way for it not to with confessions like that.
“I fucked up by not calling, not showing up, but after I saw you the last time in LA, after the record came out and we toured and I fell right back into the drinking and drugs, I realized that to be the man you needed and deserved, I had to get clean. I was not going to show up broken and make you fix me. That wouldn’t have been fair. I had to come back as the best version of me I could be.”
It was both infuriating and heartfelt. “And I was supposed to be doing what all this time? Just waiting for you to come home like a loyal dog?”
“No, of course—”
“Did it occur to you that when I got home from LA and didn’t hear from you again, that I got on with my life and met someone else?”
He moved fast then, ahead of me a few paces, then stepping in front of me, barring my path, making me stop or plow into him. Pulling off his sunglasses, he stared at me with those dark-blue eyes of his that were no longer heavy-lidded or drugged, but healthy and clear. His breath caught like he was scared. “Is,” he croaked out, “is there someone else? Did you fall in love while I was gone?”
At that moment, it would have been so satisfying to say I had. I could see the vulnerability in his eyes, on his face, saw the slight tremor that ran through him. I would have loved to cleave his heart in two.
And yet…the idea of purposely hurting the man I loved, had loved from the beginning and still loved now, seemed monstrous. It would snuff out all the hope he was brimming over with.
I wanted to punch him, though. Really, really hard.
“Chris,” he said gruffly, voice going out on him. “Is there…”
“No, there’s no one else,” I barked, fists clenched, slipping around him, mad at myself that I couldn’t even lie to him. “But I really wish there was.”
In moments, he was back at my side as I charged down the long sidewalk lining the enormous curved drive.
“I’m so relieved,” he told me. “And so very thankful.”
“That doesn’t mean I trust you to stick around even a little,” I said snidely. “Because we know how well that turned out the last time.”
“Would you feel better if you punched me?”
That was the thing with someone who knew you—they could say the things that were in your head.
“Why don’t we stop, and you can gimme a good one right in the gut.”
“Do not placate me,” I warned him. “You have no idea how pissed off I am.”
“I would never placate you unless we were playing,” he said softly, “and I know you’re mad. As I said earlier, you have every right.”
“I don’t need permission to be mad,” I snarled at him.
“I know,” he rushed out. “I just meant that I get why you’re mad, and you have my permission to beat me up.”
I said nothing.
“But I do need my face, my mouth, to sing, so…how about the bicep?”
“Stop talking,” I ordered him.
“No problem. Shutting up now.”
I ignored him, walking faster, having this sudden urge to run but keeping my stride brisk instead.
As I got closer to the front of the school, though, I noticed that Cami was not where she normally was, sitting on the granite steps that led into the administration building. Second, everyone was carrying gifts, bags, many with empty pans, and many kids had candy canes sticking out of their mouths.