Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 87913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Unable to hold back the wave of nausea any longer, I cover my mouth as I jump up off the couch and run toward the bathroom in the hall. I can hear him right behind me as my knees crash to the tile floor, and hovering over the bowl, I lose what I was able to eat.
Still gagging, with my eyes squeezed tight, I register the light come on, the toilet flush, then hear the sink start up.
“Are you okay?” He places a cool, wet cloth on the back of my neck, and tears fill my eyes.
“Yeah,” I lie, taking the rag from my neck and using it to wipe my mouth as he squats down next to me.
“I shouldn’t have told you.” He touches my chin, and I turn to meet his gaze. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
“Please stop apologizing.” I fall against him, wrapping my arms around his middle, and he lands on his ass under my weight, dragging in a deep breath. Squeezing my eyes closed again, I press my fist against my lips so that he doesn’t hear me cry.
I didn’t understand why he would’ve taken such drastic measures to make sure he didn’t have kids or why he never had a relationship, but now I get it. What he went through… the trauma of that experience altered not just his life, but him as a person—and at thirteen, an age when he was just figuring out who he was. On top of that, he lost his mom and his dad, both in tragic ways. Why would anyone believe in love, or really anything good, after going through that?
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, and his hold on me gets tighter.
“Don’t be. I was better off where I ended up.”
Because he ended up with Clay, Tucker, and Miles—his family who he chose and who chose him in return. The guys who have been in his life since he was thirteen and probably have backstories as tragic as his. I’m glad he had them and that they all had each other.
And even though our relationship will likely never be traditional in any sense of the word, I have a feeling that if we keep building on our friendship, the family we are creating will be just as strong as the one he has with his brothers, and I honestly can’t ask for anything more than that.
CHAPTER 13
Dayton
With the TV on low and the only light coming in from the windows behind me, I drag my eyes off the papers in my hand and look down toward the end of the couch at Franny. Studying her soft features and her blonde hair that is a mess of waves spread out behind her on the throw pillow she tucked under her head, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more beautiful sight in my life.
Watching her sleep is slowly becoming my favorite pastime, or maybe it’s just being around her, that is. I feel oddly at ease when she’s close, and way more centered than I normally do. Even if we’re just watching TV or hanging out, there is no outside noise trying to intrude. My mind is just quiet. I’ve never had that with anyone, not even my brothers.
When she lets out a quiet snore, I smile. I did some research and found out that most women who are pregnant need around ten hours of sleep a day, and even though she said she’s been sleeping better since she got an eye mask to block out the light in her apartment, every time she comes up to my place, she falls asleep without fail. Like today after a late lunch, because she had breakfast with a friend, she fell asleep thirty minutes into the show I turned on for us to watch and has been out for about an hour—maybe a little longer than that.
I’ve thought about talking to Clay about putting in some kind of motorized blinds for her to use, but I’m selfish as fuck and afraid that if I do that, I won’t see her as often as I do now. Which has been every day since last weekend when I told her about my parents.
Scrubbing my hands down my face, I let my head fall to the back of the couch. I still don’t know why I told her about my mom and dad. It’s not something I’ve spoken about with anyone besides my brothers, and even with them, I’ve avoided the topic for years. Maybe I was testing her, seeing if—when she learned the truth—she’d stop looking at me like I’m somehow important to her. Or maybe I was trying to push her away after the evening we had together with my family, an evening that made me want more with her, more of her.
Whatever the reason, I regretted it immediately and hated myself for shoving my past in her face the way I did.