Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 122514 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122514 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
Or at least it had been nice until he asked that question.
I shifted in my seat, my phone in hand. I was stalking Lucas, looking at his new girlfriend because the douchebag hadn’t wasted time. She was petite, with long brown hair and the largest almond eyes ever. She looked sweet.
I was tempted to slip into her DMs and see if Grandpa Newt had propositioned her, but I was resisting. Only one stalking target at a time. And I didn’t know what to say to Reese, so I kept quiet, pretending to thumb up my music on my phone.
He grunted, then swung up from the couch. Reaching over, he picked up my headphones…which weren’t plugged into my phone. Flinging them on my lap, he laid back down.
“If you don’t want to tell me, fine. But at least try to lie better. For all your crazy facade, you suck at actually being crazy.”
Oh. OH! Did he just challenge me?
I think not.
But as I was puffing up my chest, I knew he was right. I’d lost the will to be nuts. Even the random questions had stopped. I missed them.
“It’s a therapy assignment.”
I might’ve mumbled those words, my mouth tucked into the collar of my shirt. If he heard, he heard. If he didn’t, he didn’t. Just as long as he didn’t kick me out of his cabin, because his was so much better than mine.
The lack-of-smell alone was worth it.
“What?” His eyebrows rose, and he lifted his head, his hand splayed out on his chest—his very nice and defined and muscled chest that was lean, with that tattoo that I hadn’t yet brought myself to ask about because I couldn’t read it. But damn, I wanted to. It was hot.
“Nothing.” I tried to sink farther into the chair.
He wasn’t having it.
He swung his feet back up and scooted to the edge of the couch. He reached over and plucked my phone from my hands, holding it hostage. His eyes dared me to even try to get it back.
“What’d you say?” he asked.
I knew my place. Professional athlete, I was not. I remained in my seat and only lifted my feet up, scooting my knees against me and wrapping my arms around them. I propped my chin on top and watched him. “You heard me.”
He was giving me a new look. “You’re in therapy?”
“I was.” And damn. I just didn’t have the energy to lie anymore.
I held out my hand, palm up. “Come on.”
He gave me my phone back, but cautiously. “Why were you in therapy?”
“Because…” I took the phone, my hand wrapping around it, but I only brought it back to my lap. My knees remained up, like they were a shield.
My throat burned. Was I actually going to tell him some of this?
This felt weird—too fast, too…too exposed.
Shit. I was going to tell him.
I was crapping my pants as the words formed on my tongue. “I was in a relationship with someone for a long time, and it was…” The burning increased in my chest. I felt an impossible weight there. “It was a hard relationship.”
A lump formed in my throat.
Reese’s eyes narrowed. “Did he hit you?”
I couldn’t answer that. “It was—was he abusive? No. Did he hit me? Once, but it wasn’t a normal situation. I—” God. I couldn’t talk. I closed my eyes, pressed my forehead to the back of my knees, and inhaled. Once. And I counted.
5
4
3
2
1
Exhale. 5. 4. 3. 2. 1.
Inhale, and repeat.
It helped. Some of the pressure lifted, and I was able to look up again. I knew there were tears on my face, but for the life of me, I couldn’t wipe them away.
“Have you ever been involved in a situation where you felt like the other person needed you so they could live?” I asked. “But you couldn’t stay there because they were taking the oxygen you needed to breathe?”
A deep emotion shone from Reese—one I couldn’t name, but I felt the air switch. He leaned back against the couch and dropped his head.
“Yeah.” His voice was rough. “And it fucking sucks.”
He got it.
I didn’t even get it, but he got it.
I couldn’t say anything for a while after that. So I just sat. I cried. I hid behind my knees.
And Reese waited. Or something. I didn’t feel like he was waiting for me. He looked away, his eyes downcast. I had a feeling he was thinking about something else, or someone else.
“You know about my brother’s shit?” he asked after a minute. “Why we’re even here and not using our normal facilities?”
I nodded, looking up over the tops of my knees.
He still wasn’t looking at me. “He was like that for me. But he didn’t actually need me like that. He just made it seem like he did.” He turned now, his gaze raw, looking right into me. “Was it the same for you?”