Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 110360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 552(@200wpm)___ 441(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 552(@200wpm)___ 441(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
“For the last fucking time, I didn’t sleep with Levee!”
She pressed up on her toes, tears spilling freely now. “Oh, my bad. I forgot to mention those last two were me. Guess, I’m just picking right up where she left off, huh?” She cupped her hands to her mouth, her voice cracking through a hollow attempt at humor. “And the winner of the Levee Williams consolation prize is… Lofton Beck.”
“That’s bullshit. You don’t get to reduce us to some damn pattern.”
“You don’t get to pretend we aren’t one,” she fired back.
I clenched my teeth, wanting to lash back, but just like the first day I’d met her—Lofton was bleeding.
And this time it was all my fault.
I drew in a deep breath, forcing my anger down. A shouting match wasn’t going to fix this.
I wasn’t actually sure anything would. But I couldn’t lose her.
Not like this.
I didn’t mean that in the desperate, white-knuckled way of a man trying to avoid heartbreak.
I meant it like Lawrence Beck meant it—day after day walking that farmhouse like a ghost in his own life, still searching for the woman who had stolen his heart.
But most of all, I meant it because I loved Lofton.
Undeniably.
Unequivocally.
Irrevocably.
And I had no shot at keeping her unless I finally started talking.
Rocking from one foot to the other, I went to war with my hands to keep them at my sides. My fingers ached to wipe the tears from her cheeks, and then gather her in my arms so I could hold her and physically make her understand how much I loved her.
But she was hurt, and rightfully so.
Standing only a few feet away that might as well have been a million miles, I cleared my throat and gave her all of it. “I worked an assignment for Levee. A tour. There was this one show, fans got too close, rushed the barrier, and I got her out clean. She hired me full time after that.” I looked at the ground for a second and then back at her because she deserved my eyes. “I spent three years with her. Every day. Every holiday. I missed my sister’s wedding because I was at her show in Vancouver. I went thirteen months without ever going home because she was always on the road. We did everything together. And not just work. I spent Christmas at her house. Met her parents. You know how many times we went back to her place and just shot the shit until she passed out on the couch and I carried her to bed? Hindsight, we were friends. But I misread it. I thought the feelings were mutual and—” I stopped. “It doesn’t matter what I thought. I was wrong. Epically wrong.”
She gave no reaction, but she was listening. Barely breathing, but listening. That was all I could ask for.
“You know how she does all that work for suicide prevention?” I asked.
She cut her gaze to the side and reluctantly nodded.
“Right. Well, I drove her to a bridge in San Francisco every night for months.” I scrubbed a hand over my face, still horrified by the memory. “I thought she just needed fresh air to clear her mind. I sat in the car and waited, never once asking the right question when she returned. She met Sam up there and thank God for that, genuinely. But at the time I didn’t see it that way. I was supposed to protect her not hand her a proverbial loaded weapon and look away. I was staring right at her and missed all the signs. The what-if’s wrecked me. What if she’d jumped? What if I hadn’t found out?” I paused, wishing I could skim over the hard parts. But that was exactly what had gotten me in that situation to begin with. So I swallowed hard and finished, “What if I lost her?”
I exhaled. Not feeling even an ounce lighter from the confession. Especially not with Lofton staring back at me, brows pinched and face ashen. As much as I wanted the earth to open and swallow me whole, I owed her so much more.
“I couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t eat. And… well, I was so deep in my own bullshit with her, I aimed my fear in the wrong direction. Decided Sam was the problem. That she needed protecting from him specifically because he was suicidal too. But he wasn’t the problem. I was. It was a tough time for her, and instead of being a soft spot for her to land. I overstepped boundaries. Treated her like something I could control. And ultimately, made her life exponentially harder. It was beyond fucked up on a professional level, but somehow even worse on a personal one. I’m not like that, Lofton. I’m not a manipulative or possessive. I just thought—” I paused shaking my head. “It still doesn’t matter what I thought, it was wrong in any and every way possible. And all these years later, I still live with that guilt and shame. I’m not sure I’ll ever stop.”