Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 119964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Something hot and itchy swells in my chest. “I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything.”
That hot thing grows, climbing up my throat. “I think I do. You’re basically dooming us before we’ve even started.”
Chess’s eyes snap to mine. “I’m telling you how I feel. You wanted to know. Well, this is it. I get scared. I think about these things. I don’t fucking want to. Believe me, I’d rather laugh and make love, and have my biggest worry be whether we get meatballs or onions on our pizza—”
I silence her with a kiss. Pressing my mouth to hers so she can feel me.
Chess stays stiff for a second then relaxes, her hand spreading wide on my chest.
I pull back and look her in the eye. “I’m sorry, okay? I did ask. And I’m glad you told me.”
She rests her forehead against mine. “You keep apologizing. Don’t. It isn’t your fault that I can’t turn off my brain when I’m with you.”
How fucking ironic: the only time I can turn off my brain is when I’m with Chess.
Gently, I set her aside. I feel a headache coming on and my joints are stiff. “Let’s get this closet filled. Then I need to go for a run.”
She looks at me for what feels like forever, but is only the blink of an eye.
When she talks, her voice is subdued but understanding. “Putting away clothes is something I can do myself. Why don’t you go for a run now?”
I don’t argue. I leave her to it and head out. I run for a long time, but I don’t find any answers while I’m gone.
Chess
What if I’ve made a mistake?
The thought tumbles around in my head with relentless persistence. I told Finn something intensely personal. The only other person who knows is James, who found out because he was at the studio when I came back from my appointment.
Maybe it was too soon to tell Finn. Who wants to talk about conception or the lack thereof less than a month out from having sex with someone? I probably sounded like an emotional jock chaser. I wouldn’t be surprised if he fears I’ll be asking for a ring next.
God, he’d looked spooked. And then so freaking stubborn. Finn is a problem solver. He relies on instinct, whereas I like to think things out.
“Argh.” I rest my head on the kitchen counter, letting the cool stone soothe my hot cheek.
I should have just told him the bare bones and moved on, had some fun with Finn without worrying about some shadowy future. Yet, I can’t do that. I’m totally gone on this man. What did James call it?
Besotted. I totally am. If I let myself fall any further, it will wreck me if we don’t last. I need for us to go in eyes wide-open, or I will always worry.
Predictably, after I dropped my no-baby bomb, Finn had been withdrawn. Oh, he had still reached for me as we got into bed, slid his hand down my pants and insisted that I’d be more comfortable never wearing clothes to bed again. He’d fucked me into oblivion, with quiet intensity that felt almost like desperation, as if I’d soon disappear on him. I’d felt the same and turned to him with a neediness that bordered on painful.
But it feels as though there’s a rift between us now. I put it there.
Finn had left early for his home game today. I’d expected him to ask me if I wanted a ticket to go watch, but he hadn’t said a word. Just gave me a light kiss on the mouth and said he’d see me tonight.
It hurt so much that I hadn’t watched him on TV. I caught up on work instead. Dinner at the kitchen table is lonely now that I know how it feels to share it with Finn. My dinner is finished, and I’m still alone in a too quiet condo.
“Shit.” I push myself upright and open my laptop. I don’t know how to turn off my mind or stop from worrying. I put my focus on work instead. Work is safe. Work I understand. I can control it.
I’m touching up a photo when Finn comes home. I look up from my perch on the kitchen stool to find him limping along, his expression drawn and tight.
I know pain is part of his life. It still guts me every time I see him hurting. “Hey,” I say, catching his attention.
“Babe.” Finn moves toward me, going at a snail’s pace. Jesus, he’s in a bad way.
I jump off my stool. “Bedroom.”
His lips curl in a tired but pleased smile. “I like how you think, Chester, but you’re gonna have to do most of the work tonight.”
“My man, the eternal optimist.” I fight a smile. “But I was talking about getting you horizontal so you can rest.”