Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 119476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 597(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 597(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)
Kneeling before her, I help her into a pair of simple cotton panties, followed by a pair of my sweats, which I have to fold the waistband on twice. Even halfway through her pregnancy, Nora’s tiny.
I cradle her belly between my palms, and press a soft kiss to her taut skin, sending up a silent thanks that our little man is okay before standing and tugging one of my shirts over her head.
“Socks or no socks?”
Nora looks at her bare feet and wiggles her toes. “Socks,” she croaks, and I smile, because we both know she will kick them off in the middle of the night.
I grab her favorite pair from the top drawer and drop down to my knees again, quickly tugging them onto her feet.
“Let me change really quick, okay?”
She nods sleepily, wrapping her arms around her waist as she rests her head against the wall.
I shuck off my jeans and pull on a pair of sweats to match hers and call it good. In all honesty, I’d kill for a shower, but for now, this’ll have to do, because Nora needs me more, and if I’m being honest, the thought of leaving her side for even a second is a hard no at the moment.
“Now, come to the bed so I can help you brush out these knots. Ellis should be home by then, and we can eat, and then we can—”
“Sleep.”
“That’s right.” I scoop Nora into my arms and carry her bridal style into our bedroom, depositing her gently onto the bed. “Let’s get some food in you and then we can sleep.”
CHAPTER 49
NORA
Isuck in a deep breath and draw the blanket wrapped around my shoulders tighter as I wait for the video call with Maggie to connect.
The thought of talking to her about everything is unsettling to say the least. A part of me wants to pretend it never happened, but there’s a small voice in the back of my mind—that sounds suspiciously like my mother—telling me that hiding from my trauma isn’t the answer.
“Nora, how are you?” Maggie’s voice filters out through my speaker moments before her face fills my screen. Seeing her kind eyes and welcoming smile instantly relieves some of the tension building inside of me.
“I’ve been better.” I shrug. “I’ve also been worse.”
“You’re still here.” She appraises me through the screen. “You’re here, and you have your whole life ahead of you. How do you feel about that?”
How do I feel? A million different possible answers surge forward, but only one really fits. “Grateful.”
Maggie steeples her fingers beneath her chin. “What is it you’re grateful for, Nora?”
“That I’m here. I survived.” I swallow around the lump in my throat. “That Atlas found me. That our baby’s okay.” My hand strokes across my rounded belly as if it has a mind of its own. “But most of all, I’m grateful that he’s dead. That he can never hurt anyone else ever again.”
When Maggie doesn’t immediately reply, I rush to fill the silence. “That makes me a horrible person, doesn’t it?” Tears burst forth without any warning as the weight of my confession bears down on me. “It does—I’m happy someone’s dead and I—I think that might make me a monster.”
“Oh, Nora.” Maggie sighs softly. “Monster is the last word anyone would ever use to describe you. It might be unprofessional of me to say this, but I can promise you, a lot of people are happy he’s gone. The world is a better place without him.”
“You… do you really mean that?” I whisper, clutching the blanket between my fingers in my lap.
“Yes, Nora.” Maggie nods once. “I very much do. Now, let’s talk about how you’re coping with all of this.”
I curl my shoulders inward, fully aware she’s not going to like my reply. “I’ve been trying to pretend it didn’t happen.”
She arches one brow. “And how’s that working out for you?”
I huff out an unamused laugh. “It’s not.”
“Have you tried writing about it?”
“I… want to.” My eyes flit to my nightstand, where my diary sits, mocking me. “I’ve tried, but I just can’t.”
“You have writer’s block.” She says it like a statement, but it feels like a question. One I don’t know how to answer.
“Something like that, I guess.”
“Tell me about it.”
“It’s like… ugh.” I run my fingers through my hair, tugging the ends in frustration. “It’s like every time I try, I-I get lost.”
“Lost how?” Maggie asks, her voice soft.
I rub at my wrists as they burn with phantom pains from the ropes Rand bound me with. “In the memories. They’re so real… so vivid… it’s almost like I’m back there.”
My heart feels like it’s being squeezed in an iron vise as I fight to stay in the present. “Like I’m still with him.” I scrub away the fat tears rolling down my cheeks with the back of my hands. I will not cry over him. Not ever again.