Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 95951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
“I get you all day, right?”
“You do. Landry was still in bed when I left. I left a note for him, letting him know Sloane and I were having a girls’ day.”
“So, when do you have to go home?”
She shrugs. “I don’t have a curfew or anything. I’m an adult. I can stay out as long as I want.”
“So, what I’m hearing is that you’re spending all day and night here,” I say, taking another bite of my sandwich.
“Is that what you want?”
“I want to kiss you. I want to hold you and not feel like I’m breaking ten laws in the process. I want to spend time with you without being under a microscope of eyes watching us.”
“Let’s just take it one step at a time.”
“One breath, one second, one minute, one hour, one day at a time,” I mumble.
“What’s that?”
“Nothing, just something my parents used to say growing up.”
“Are you close to your parents?”
“I am. We have this huge extended family that’s not family by blood, but they might as well be. It was a lot of fun growing up, always having a lot of people around for pretty much everything.”
“I always wondered what it would be like to have a big, loud family. It was just Landry, me, and our parents. Our dad died when I was five and Landry was twelve.”
“Landry’s told me a little about that. What a tragic accident.”
“It was. Mom was both parents to us, and then we lost her.”
“Another freak accident.” I reach over and place my hand on her knee, squeezing gently.
“Yeah, I mean, not as freak as getting a steel beam dropped on you from three stories up, but the knee surgery was supposed to be in and out. We never could have anticipated the blood clot complication.” She sucks in a breath and wipes at her eyes.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
She gives me a watery smile. “You didn’t. I get like this when I talk about them. I still miss them every day.”
“I imagine you will every day of forever. I kind of know a little bit about that, but it’s a different story altogether.”
“Yeah?” she asks, wadding up her empty wrapper and tossing it into the bag.
“I don’t really talk about this because, in my eyes, all I’ve ever known is my mom, you know?”
“You don’t have to tell me, Knox.”
“I want to tell you.” She scoots closer to me and links her arm through mine, resting her head on my shoulder.
“I’m a good listener, and I promise your story is safe with me.”
“I know that.” I place a kiss on her temple and give her the condensed version. “My mom, she’s actually my aunt.” I wait for the judgment that usually comes with that statement, but it never comes, so I keep going. “My mom and my aunt were adopted at birth by different families. They didn’t know they were twins.” I go on to tell her the rest of the story and how my parents ended up together.
“Wow, talk about fate.”
“I know. I truly feel as though there was some kind of higher force or power pulling the strings. There had to be. I was just a baby, so I only know what they’ve told me, but it seems too out of reach for that not to be the case.”
“That’s actually really fucking cool, Knox. You have that connection to her.”
“I know. I wish I could have met my birth mother at an age I could remember her. I have one picture of the three of us—the day I was born. That’s it. She passed right after it was taken. There was never a day I didn’t feel loved or wanted. My parents supported me and my dream of this career. Countless practices, games, and gear, they did it all, and I have them to thank for me being where I am today.”
“I love that,” she says, covering her yawn.
“Tired?” I tease.
“I am. It took me forever to fall asleep last night.”
“Me, too, and then I was wide awake at four this morning.”
“What? Why in the world were you up so early?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Oh, okay,” she says as she stiffens beside me.
“It’s not at all anywhere close to what you’re thinking. I can promise you that.”
“It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to tell you.” I pause, and when she doesn’t respond, I can’t take the silence or the fact that she assumes it was someone else who had me awake at the ass-crack of dawn. “You,” I say softly. “I was up at 4:00 a.m. because I was too damn excited to see you today. I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve felt like this, Corie.” There, it’s out on the table. I’m not a man who likes to play games… unless it’s football. You can count me out. I also don’t want to come on too strong, but these feelings swirling inside me are too big to contain, and I’d rather spill my truth than have her thinking something different. Miscommunication is not how I want this, whatever we are, to start.