Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
I hop off the stool and throw myself at him so hard that he nearly tips over backward. He twists at the last second, his back hitting the counter to balance us both.
“This is the best and worst thing that could have happened,” I say to his shoulder, breathing in the pine, sandalwood, and plaid scent of him and sinking further and further into his warmth. And yes, I swear plaid actually has a scent. It smells like trees and a cold lake, a little bit like a sweaty bearded lumberjack, and like extra muscley muscledness set off by a backdrop of mountains and blue skies. “You should take the time to process it.”
After a moment, his chin rests on the crown of my head like he’s just too tired to hold it up. “Thank you.”
It goes against all my instincts to let him go, but I manage to unwind my arms and untangle myself. “I’m going to clean up the living room and then go for a swim and just read, but I won’t lock the door. If you feel like you need some platonic, friendship-style company later, feel free to come in. I can even read you some of the terribly ridiculous smut that I enjoy so much. I just found this book about a woman who falls in love with her refrigerator. Granted, it’s actually an alien in hiding. He’s worried that since his real form looks like sewer goop, and he literally drips slime and smells marshy, she won’t be able to love him, so right now, he’s just chilling as a fridge. Literally.”
It takes War a long while to crack a smile. “That’s the most insane thing I’ve heard.”
“Yeah, but it’s actually pretty awesome.”
I reluctantly let him go. I clean up the kitchen, then do exactly what I said I would. I tackle the living room, stacking all the cardboard neatly to be reused or recycled, then change into my bathing suit for a long swim in which I don’t try and hold my breath because I don’t want to freak War out, should he happen to look outside and see me. He’s had enough surprises for a single day.
I know I care about him by the level of hurt I feel the entire time.
It is awful, but in a way, I know how freeing it is for him. No one should hear things like that, but in this case, it’s exactly what he needed to move on. Ironically, this very thing has given him and Reg a chance.
My heart still feels like it’s been flayed wide open. I don’t know how War has spent all these years trying so hard, going on, and living what he can of his life. It’s true he didn’t do it fully for himself, but he found reasons to go on. He could easily have hardened himself to the point of a stone that couldn’t bleed or feel or love anything or anyone, but he didn’t. It makes me enraged that someone took advantage of his goodness, that Candice stole from him for decades. At the same time, a reluctant, burning, half-terrible hope rises up in me.
I think about all of that until it’s late. No wonder War needed to work out to the point of exhaustion. As it is, I’m battling with this so fiercely, and I’m not the one it happened to.
Just as I’m thinking about him for the thousandth time, hoping that by now, he’s fallen into that deep sleep he craved, the door cracks open.
I sit bolt upright in bed, clutching the blankets to my chest.
“Amalphia?”
I go soft with relief. I knew it was him, but at the same time, I was not sure my mind would never conjure midnight monsters, even though I knew no one could get into his backyard because of the fences and cameras around the house.
“Warrick.” I shift over and pat the spot beside me on the bed. I slowly let my breath out, not wanting to pry, but I need to ask him the age-old, stupid question. “Are you okay?”
I see his head bob in the dark. “I was hoping that maybe you hadn’t changed your mind about reading that fridge romance. It’s random how close it is to my heart, considering I work with air conditioners all day.”
I lean over the bed to flick the lamp on, then shove back over to my spot beside the wall, leaving the other side wide open. “I haven’t changed my mind. Not at all.”
Chapter fifteen
Warrick
Amalphia starts at the beginning and reads for hours. She’s got a digital copy of the book on her phone. It might be extremely old-fashioned of me, but I’ve never read anything electronic. She says she prefers the feel of real paper in her hands, the smell of old books, and the whole tangible experience, but paper copies are expensive, and the library doesn’t get stuff like this very often, if ever.