Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 87289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
I want her mornings, her nights, her forever.
I pause outside Nora’s room before easing the door open, careful not to make a sound. The nightlight casts a pale glow across the space, painting shadows on the walls. My gaze finds her small form right away. Her cheeks are flushed with the warmth of sleep as one small hand clutches the edge of her blanket while the other is wrapped tight around Gaffy.
She looks peaceful. Like nothing in the world can touch her. A knot pulls tight inside me at the sight.
At the weight of what I want to give them both.
I glance at the bare walls with their neutral tones, the rug that’s more practical than playful. It’s functional and serves a purpose. But it doesn’t belong to a child.
Nora deserves better than this.
They both do.
I make a mental note, already planning. Tomorrow, I’ll call a decorator. Someone who knows how to bring color and light into the space. Someone who can give this room life. Pink walls if she wants them. A canopy bed draped in gauzy fabric. Maybe some twinkle lights. Or a cozy reading nook filled with pillows and stuffed animals. We could add a mural. Bunnies and stars, or even a rainbow.
Whatever Nora dreams of, I’ll find a way to make it happen.
Maybe it’s too much, too fast, but I don’t give a damn.
I want to build something for them.
No, I want to build something with them.
A home.
A future.
A life that feels like more than going through the motions.
With one last glance at Nora’s peaceful form, I close the door. I’ll figure out a way to keep both Callie and her daughter, no matter what it takes.
When I step back into the bedroom, the bedside lamp casts everything in honeyed light. Callie is already curled beneath the covers, her silhouette outlined in shadows. Her blonde hair spills across the pillow like silk, and the sight of her in my bed, tangled in my sheets, looking like she belongs there, makes every instinct within me roar with need.
She glances up as I enter, her gaze meeting mine in the quiet hush of the room. For a beat, everything goes still. The heavy weight of what I feel for her presses in, coiling around my ribs like a vise.
Without a word, I tug my shirt over my head. The cotton catches slightly on my shoulder. Her gaze never leaves me. I feel the heat of it like a brand on my skin. The rustle of denim fills the silence as I unbutton my jeans and let them fall to the floor.
Still, she doesn’t look away. Her breathing changes, becoming shallow and slower as she grips the edge of the blanket like it has the power to steady her.
Even more surprising is she doesn’t try to hide her interest.
It’s a small thing, maybe. But it means everything. It’s a tiny crack in the walls she’s built around herself. A glimpse of the curious and brave woman hiding behind the facade.
God, I want her to stop fighting this.
I want her to lean into whatever’s building between us.
I want to be the soft place she finally lets herself rest.
Her comment breaks the quiet. “You have tattoos.”
I pause, catching her eyes as I let her see all of me. “A few.”
Her gaze dips, tracing the ink on the left side of my ribcage, her curiosity fighting to break free. “What’s that one for?”
Each step is careful, like I’m approaching a skittish animal that will bolt if I move too quickly. “That one’s for Willow.”
Her gaze roves over me. “You two must be close.”
I nod, settling on the edge of the mattress, close enough for us to touch.
“Yeah,” I murmur. “She was diagnosed with leukemia when we were in high school. And for a while, it was bad. Really bad.” When the words get stuck in my throat, I swallow them down and keep going. “There were times when I thought we’d lose her.”
Callie’s features relax, and for a moment, all the guarded distance she keeps between us dissolves.
“I’m sorry,” she says gently. “That must’ve been terrifying. I can’t imagine.”
“It was.” I glance down at my hands, at the ink on my skin, before looking back at her. “But she’s okay now. Married, actually. To Maverick McKinnon.”
Her eyebrows shoot up, and the tension in the room lightens as she smirks. “Wait… are we talking about that Maverick McKinnon?”
I grin. “Let me guess. You think he’s good-looking.”
Her eyes sparkle with amusement as she shrugs. “I mean, who doesn’t?”
The smile tugs wider at my mouth as heat pools low in my stomach. “Is that so?”
I pounce in one fluid motion, bracing my weight and pinning her wrists to the mattress as I hover inches above her. Our bodies don’t quite touch, but the space between us crackles like a live wire. It’s electric and volatile, pulsing with all the things we haven’t said.