Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 97951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
“Do you… do you want me to leave now?”
“What the hell do you think? I can’t stand to look at you another second. Sam, I’m trying with everything within me not to punch you in your damn throat.” He clenched his fist. “I need peace and quiet. I need time to think. Go on. Get!”
Sam slowly got to his feet, hobbled past him holding the ice to his temple, and entered the house. The door slammed behind him. Grandpa stood outside with his semi-automatic rifle, surveying his acres of land.
Lennox used to be one of my favorite grandchildren. Now, he’s my enemy. He’s gonna race over here halfcocked, guns loaded. Wanting my head on a platter. I understand… Can’t blame a hound for feelin’ frisky when his bitch is in heat and someone interrupts the fuck fest. That’s fine, but I’ll be ready. Even in my seasoned age, I can still learn new tricks. I’ll put him down like the dog that he is…
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Flat as a Pancake Dinner
He decided to leave while she was asleep…
Lennox managed to slip from beneath his slumbering baby. Nadia was snoozing so deeply, he imagined her as Snow White, only able to be awakened by a passionate kiss. He smiled down at her as he quietly got dressed, each of his movements measured and deliberate. He pulled his jeans up each leg, careful to not make any gestures that would force the fabric to kink against his skin, creating unnecessary friction and noise.
He carefully pulled out a white T-shirt from his overnight duffle bag and slipped it on. Keeping Nadia in his sights, he flashed a mischievous grin that he felt down to his bones. He was so proud of his handiwork in putting that pussy to sleep, just as he’d promised, killing it softly. My dick is like NyQuil. He chuckled within, but more importantly, he was pleased that her body had a habit of telling on her, revealing the secrets that roamed the hallways of her mind.
What her upper lips wouldn’t say, her lower ones would. As he’d made love to her the evening prior, her movements, facial expressions, and the relaxing and rigidifying of her body let him know that she was holding something painful inside. Trying to hide it from his prying eyes. Something awful and foul.
They were the same facial expressions she’d make when they’d worked at the restaurant so many years ago. The ones she’d produce when she was troubled about her father standing her up for another daddy-daughter visit, or her brother not wanting to come home and his whereabouts unknown. Maybe she’d gotten into a heated argument with her mother, but whatever the cause, that was the face she wore. Sometimes she didn’t want to talk about it. A shaken bottle of bubbly about to burst—only it wasn’t for a happy occasion but yet another crack in the foundation of her heart. Another loss of trust. Another blow to self-esteem. Another dream slipping down the crude coated drain of life.
But sometimes, those bad days he could make better. He treasured those moments. When he could turn her frown upside down.
He felt useful. Of service. That’s when he was at his best. She gave that to him, wanting nothing more than a little of his time. When she did want to discuss her problems, he’d listen. Sometimes he’d offer a bit about himself too, as much as he safely could so she’d feel more comfortable. He didn’t want her to know what his surname meant in their town. He wanted his family and past to fade away like days on a calendar, and for her to see him for him, to understand that he was her friend purely out of enjoying her company, and his love for her.
He hated when she cried. She struggled often to hold back the tears, and then they’d pour down her velvety cheeks, making his heart break into a million pieces. He’d hug her, offer encouraging words. As he’d shelter her in his arms, her body would be stiff as a board, then it would loosen, unravel like a string of yarn as she released her pain against his frame.
And now, here they were. Ten years later. He realized when it came to how Nadia processed disappointment, nothing had changed. She wore her feelings on her sleeve only if she trusted you, and he was grateful for that. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that this woman was indeed his soulmate, for he was the same way—and their connection was deeper than any words uttered, in any language known to man.
There was nothing she could hide from him, even if she were invisible. Moreover, he understood that if she was being quiet—she felt it was for good reason. Not to be spiteful or duplicitous, but to protect the innocent, or plan retribution towards the wicked. He gave grace and forgiveness for her not being forthcoming, but he was determined to get to the bottom of it, nevertheless. With or without her admission.