Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 31042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 155(@200wpm)___ 124(@250wpm)___ 103(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 155(@200wpm)___ 124(@250wpm)___ 103(@300wpm)
“Extra tired. Someone kept me awake all night,” I pretend to be mad about it. But it’s hard to be mad when he woke me up three times to give me orgasms. It’s a good thing he lives secluded in a mountain. Otherwise, his neighbors would know that Whiskey keeps me satisfied and full of come.
“Is there a way I could make it up to my beautiful girlfriend?” He asks, his hand going higher to cup my breast.
I freeze at the word. We haven’t put labels on this, and I didn’t want to ask. This thing between us is new and fragile. “I’m your girlfriend?”
He flicks off the stove, removing the pan from the burner then he turns me to face him. He cups my head in his hands. “You’re my girl. You belong to me now.”
I smile up at him. “Good because that means you’re my man.”
He kisses my forehead. “Damn straight I am. Now let me feed your cute ass before I take you back to my bed and ravage you again.”
I shake my head and duck from his arms. “Don’t you start making promises like that. I won’t leave today, and I plan on going into town.” I plate the food and place it on the table. “You could go with me if you wanted to.”
He sets my black coffee on the table and passes me a fork. “Got some stuff I have to get done here.”
I take a bite of my eggs and nod. “You know what I’ve been through, so I’m the last person to ever pass judgement. But do you ever leave your mountain?”
He hesitates before he says, “I leave it. Sometimes, I go around my mom’s place—edge her lawn, clean her gutters, little chores like that. I just can’t…I haven’t seen my family for a while.”
“Because you were injured?” I question, keeping my tone especially gentle. I want to find a way to help him, but I don’t know how to do that.
“Because I’m not the same boy who went away,” he explains.
“I think they would be proud of the man you are,” I say.
He shakes his head and says, “You don’t get it. I was a foster kid.”
“Why would that change anything?” I ask.
He says, “When you’re a foster kid, you’re not loved for who you are. You’re loved for what you do. You have to work extra hard to belong. I did it by being funny and always smiling and never giving anyone a reason to worry about me. I can’t go back to being that person, not anymore.”
My heart aches at his raw confession.
I say, “Well, if I had a son, foster son or not, I’d want you to know that I loved you no matter what. Even if there were days that the darkness stole your smile. I’d want to be there for you on those days, especially on those days.”
He swallows, looks down at his food. “I have stuff to do,” he mutters again.
I nod and accept his answer. I understand that it’s all he can offer me right now. Maybe one day it will get easier for him. Maybe one day he can understand that he is so very loved.
Whiskey is extra quiet during breakfast, probably thinking about everything I’ve said.
When it’s time for him to leave for work, he presses a kiss to my forehead the way he has every day for the last two weeks. “We’ll go on a run together later.”
I nod and smile, liking that idea. He’s spent the last two weeks training with me. He never complains about how far we run. And he doesn’t try to make conversation during our runs.
He’s just there with me, a silent support. Reminding me that not only am I strong, but I’m not strong alone.
I wave to him, then drive into town. I stop in at Mallory’s place to talk about her idea for adding a makeup counter.
“Have you made a decision yet?” she asks me.
I shake my head. “No, I haven’t come to any decisions. But these are the figures you asked for. How much capital you’d need if we were going to do this.”
She takes the list and glances it over. “You let me know if you decide. I know you can hire just anybody.”
“You let me know what you decide. You can hire just anybody,” I point out.
She gives me a smile that’s filled with warmth and kindness. “I could, but I’d much rather it be you.”
After that, we spend a few minutes talking. She shows me her latest inventory. The dresses are adorable, and I even buy one for myself. A little white one with a sweetheart neckline and little smiling pumpkins on it. It’s the perfect cute autumn dress.
After that, I go to Emma May’s grocery store. She spots me while she’s restocking shelves and waves me over.