Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 55395 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55395 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
“These.” I pull out a stack of envelopes that are tied together with twine. Jagger rips them out of my hand, pulls the string, and lets them fall out.
“They’re sealed. You mean you never opened them?” Jagger’s big body crowds me, scooting until his legs are on either side of mine, thumbing through them one by one.
“No, I never got any of them. I sent yours, but when I didn’t receive a response, well, I figured you moved on.” He continues shuffling through the envelopes, reaching the bottom of the stack. “Wait a damn minute.” I started to lounge against Jagger’s chest when I spot my handwriting in the stack.
“Fuck.” Jagger’s composure remains stoic, minus the tightening of every muscle in his body. He’s tense, and I’m sure if I took the time to look over my shoulder or spin around, his jaw would be locked tight.
“That’s about the size of it. I wish one of my parents were around so I could get to the bottom of this.” I highly doubt my mother would do anything to persuade Jagger and me not to communicate. We were thousands of miles apart; it’s not like we could have run off together into the sunset and get married without them noticing. That leaves me to believe my dad could be the person behind this, and God, do I hate to think badly of him. Especially with his disease, unless maybe this could have been part of it?
“Me too. That only leaves me with one other question. What about the phone calls?” This time, I do move, resituating myself with my legs going over his, my dress lifting up, showing a whole lot of thigh. When I got dressed this morning, it was for the reason of staying cool. Jean shorts are miserable on the best of days, and with most of my clothes being packed away, my sundress seemed like the best idea. Jagger’s low grumble proves me right, that and the fact he’s been unable to stop touching or staring at me. I think I’ll make a mental note to add another ten or so dresses to my wardrobe.
“What phone calls? I never got a call from you,” I say, one hand cupping his cheek. I place the other over his heart, feeling it beat and wishing it were my head lying on his chest.
“And yours said the line was disconnected. At that point, I didn’t even tell my mom. I knew they were friends and talked; she’d already known about the lack of mail.” Jagger is real, raw, and honest. I can see the toll this has taken on him, the worry lines that are currently marring his face, and now I know the reason he was like a light switch flicking on and off last weekend.
“God, we’ve lost all this time.” I leave my sentence open, unsure if I should apologize, hug him, or cry. Maybe I should do all three. It wasn’t his mom or dad who kept him away; it was mine. Shit, this hits me deep in the chest. I put my life on hold for them, and while I don’t regret a second of it, I’m still left wondering why they would do something like this. I take a moment, realization hitting that I need to be the one to start the conversation. While it might not be my fault, I could have and should have done a lot of things differently once having the Internet at my fingertips became easier. Except I was scared and let my insecurities get the best of me.
“Jagger.” His eyes close for a minute, and it hurts like hell to watch what I think is him closing down. When he opens his blue eyes, they aren’t like his usual crystal clear; they’re dark and stormy. The only hope he gives me is his arms wrapping around my back, the letters scattered on the ground between us, and he pulls me into the comfort of his body.
“Don’t you dare apologize, Lili. This isn’t your fault, and it’s not my fault. I’m not accusing you, and I’m not blaming your parents. It burns like hell, but they’re gone, and there’s nothing we can do to change the past. There’s a slew of things we could have done to change the turn of events, and maybe, the way this went down, it’s what was meant to be until now.” My ankles hook around his lower back, barely. Comparing his size to mine is hard; the only way to describe is I’m small enough to curl into him, and he’s big enough to wrap me up.
“You have to blame someone. Letting this go as easily as you seem to…” My fingers tangle in the loose ends of his hair. The soft strands aren’t knotted; they’re silky smooth, and it makes me wonder why guys have it all. I bet he uses one of those all-in-one deals that has body wash, shampoo, and face wash mixed together. Meanwhile, I have shampoo, conditioner, a hair mask, a leave-in conditioner, and then heat protector. Still, my hair isn’t as soft as Jaggers. I’m also insanely jealous of his long eyelashes, curled naturally, thick instead of sparse, and seriously, his eye color, it’s what a girl with dark hair can only dream to have. Yes, there is science behind it, but since neither of my parents had blue eyes, I’m destined for green. I guess that whole saying you always want what you can’t have is true.