Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 112903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
“Sally—”
“I know, I know. Not like you mind. I don’t either, if I’m being honest.” She surveys the books, running her fingertips over the spines. They’re gingham, the color of Easter eggs—pastel blue, powder pink, violet. “They’re so pretty, aren’t they?”
“Sally—”
She looks up, drawing her brows together when she takes in my expression. “Shit, this is too cheesy, isn’t it?” Her cheeks flush. “Or does it hit too close to home? I’m sorry. I was hoping it might make you feel better—”
“Sally—”
“Wyatt, really, it’s okay—”
But she can’t finish that thought because I’m grabbing her, one hand on her hip, the other sliding onto her face. Guiding her chin up, I lean down and angle my mouth so her top lip rests in the divot between my own. She closes her eyes.
I lick into her mouth, tasting my—her—toothpaste. We’ve used the same kind forever. But now we’re using the same tube.
Weird I find that romantic?
I finally break the kiss, desperate for air, and rest my forehead on hers.
“So you don’t hate the books then,” she says thickly. Joyfully.
I scoff, my breath rustling the dark brown hair that falls into her face. “I fuckin’ love ’em, Sally. Almost as much as I love you.”
Her eyelashes flutter against my cheeks as her eyes fly open. I meet her gaze. This close, I can see the flecks of auburn in her irises that make them look like they’re on fire.
My heart thunders, but somehow I’m able to keep my voice even when I say, “Don’t act so surprised, Sunshine. I’m in love with you. Been in love with you for a long, long time.”
She opens her mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. “Really?”
The genuine surprise in her voice makes my chest cramp.
“Really. I realized it that day at the river right after my parents died, but I think I’d fallen for you way before then.”
“My God.” Her eyes well with tears. “Your tattoo…oh my God, Wyatt. Why didn’t you tell me?”
I lift a shoulder, like I haven’t been agonizing over that question for years. Decades. “You had so much to do. So many things to accomplish. You’ve always aimed so high, and I wasn’t gonna stand in your way.”
She fists her hand in my shirt. “Don’t make me quote the corniest-slash-best love song ever written.”
“What’s that?”
Sally searches my eyes with an urgency that makes my pulse hiccup. “Ever consider you could never ever hold me back, even if you tried? You’re not a roadblock, Wyatt. You’re the wind beneath my fucking wings.”
I erupt in a roar of loud, relieved laughter. “That’s a great song.”
“It’s the best song. But I want you to know—I need you to understand”—she gives my shirt an angry pull—“I was in love with you too. Have been since…forever really.”
My eyes burn. My body trembles, my gut a swirl of anger, sadness, relief. “We messed that one up, didn’t we?”
She shakes her head, squeezing her eyes shut as her tears overflow. “You give me confidence. You make me laugh. You listen. You’re always there for me, Wyatt.” She opens her eyes. “All while you’ve been dealing with some heavy shit.”
I swallow. “I thought you’d just leave again.”
“What if I’m done leaving?”
My stomach plummets. We’re finally talking about this.
Finally.
“I can’t ask you to stay.”
“I don’t need you to.”
“Sally.” Frustration grips me by the throat. “You have to go to New York. You made so many promises to yourself. I won’t let you break them. And I promised your daddy—”
“That you wouldn’t keep me here.” Sally scoffs. “Of course my dad made that insanely inappropriate ask of you. I’m sorry.”
“He’s right.”
“He’s not though!”
My pulse seizes at her sudden outburst. I don’t know what to do or say, so I just cup her face in my hands and thumb away her tears as she speaks.
“He’s not right,” she says, a little calmer. “I just—I can’t leave you, Wyatt. I won’t.”
“What if I come with you?”
Her eyes bulge. Everything inside me heaves. Maybe she was ready to hear that I loved her, but she’s not ready to hear I’d drop everything—my family, my job, my plans for the future—to be with her.
But then a small smile breaks out on her face. “You’d do that?”
“Stupid question.”
“That’s…wow. One hell of a gesture.”
“I’m one hell of a boyfriend.”
“Ha.”
“All you need to do is ask, Sunshine. I’d say yes in a heartbeat.”
I wait for her to ask as she studies my face, smile fading. I can see her wheels turning, the little divots between her brows a dead giveaway that she’s deep in thought.
At last, she says, “But you have to stay, Wyatt. You belong here.”
“Not if you’re somewhere else.”
Her eyes go soft. “I want to stay, Wyatt.”
My heart riots. I want that too. So bad that it hurts. But she has to go back to Ithaca. I won’t let her give up the job she’s worked her whole life for.