Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 102185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
“Griffin.” My name is all she manages to say.
I bend over her. My eyes align with hers, and our mouths are just more than a breath away. “What is it?” I whisper, capturing wild strands of her hair and pushing them back from her face.
“You’re staying.”
Her words confuse me, and I shake my head. “What do you mean?” I climb onto the bed, situating myself between her legs and anchoring my elbows into the mattress beside her head. I want to be as close as I can to her. “Did you think I could lose you twice and still exist without you?” I kiss her with gentle pressure, only pulling back to look into her beautiful eyes. “Impossible. You and I broke the timeline. We did it.”
She cups my jaw, dancing her fingers along the edge with a smile that makes me feel alive each time she grants it. “We did it,” she whispers. “We broke the curse.”
I drop my head. “I traveled the planet, went to the most remote beaches and towns, thinking I was escaping the failures of my life. I wasn’t. I was only dragging out the inevitable of facing my troubles.”
Her palms settle on the round of my shoulders, and she asks, “What made you leave? What failures sent you searching?”
Sounding weak is not attractive, but I know to her, honesty is. “My mom died.” I fall to my back, needing air as my heart starts thumping in my chest. She rolls to her side, dipping her head against me and giving me time to say what I need to say without her staring.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
I take hold of her hand and kiss it before resting them on my body. “She’d call me before every game. She was the first and only person I called after I played. I could ramble about a missed catch or slow return. I could boast about getting a player out when bases were loaded or hitting a homer. It didn’t matter to her. She just wanted to hear my voice. I wish I could hear hers now.”
Cricket wraps her arm over my midsection, her breath warming across my skin every time she exhales. She doesn’t understand the comfort she brings me. I tighten my arm around her. “She sounds like an amazing mother.”
I swallow down the balled-up emotions lumped in my throat, though it’s not easy. “She was. The best.” I kiss her head, and say, “You two have that in common.”
A tremble runs through her, and then the softest sniffle as if she’s stifling her tears from releasing. I contort to the side to see her eyes. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
“I know . . .” A tear slips to my chest, and her gaze finally meets mine. “I know how much she means to you, so to hear that you think I could be that kind of mom to Jacob is just so . . . It’s so touching. You’re an incredible man, Griffin.”
“It’s true. Our son is fortunate to have you. I am, too. Who knew you’d slum it with a guy like me twice.”
That warrants a little laugh out of her. “Feels like two different lifetimes, but then the years have sped by quicker.”
It’s these moments when time seems to slow down, and we get to process the present. Maybe it’s time to release myself from the past so I can be with her and Jacob fully now . . . “I got in a fight with my teammates. That’s what led to my suspension. And then it went downhill from there. No fucking way was I going to apologize. I was so full of anger and resentment, and taking it out on the guys giving me shit made sense in my jaded brain. They threw the insults. I threw the punches.”
She shifts onto her stomach and rests on her elbows. “What led to the fight?”
I pause to think about what to say, not because I don’t know, but because the story has never been given my voice before. It didn’t matter what the sports channels or the broadcasters said, and it didn’t matter that others happily gave their side of the story. I wasn’t and didn’t. I can now because I trust she’ll love me for who I am and not the lost cause I used to be. “I was waiting for my mom to call.” My stomach jerks, the memory wanting to cause a revolt. “They didn’t tell me until after the game. My family knew, but I played like she was watching.” I laugh because I’m such a fucking fool. “It was one of my best games ever, too.”
Cricket places a kiss on my arm, then goes higher, dropping one on my chest before reaching my lips. When she settles back, she says, “You didn’t play that well because she was watching. You played that well because you’d spent your entire life building up to that moment. That was your payoff for all the hard work you’d put in.”