Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 54520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
“Oh my god.” The words rush out, tangled with disbelief. I move fast—launching myself into his arms.
He grunts at the impact, his rough laugh falling against my hair as he gathers me close. Strong. Solid. Real.
“Are you okay?” The question breaks from me, muffled against his chest.
“Yeah, I’m good, Goldilocks.” His voice is gruff but edged with that familiar drawl. “A little banged up, but I’m going to be okay.”
Relief floods my chest, my fists tangling in his shirt like I’m afraid he might disappear.
“I thought I lost you,” I whisper, the words catching on a sob. “When Hollis called, I didn’t think—I just got in the car and drove. I had to see you. To tell you I love you. To say I’m sorry for being so damn stubborn yesterday and—”
The rush of words falters, a ripple of confusion breaking through.
“Wait.” I pull back, frowning up at him. “If you’re standing here…” My gaze shifts to the hospital bed where I just spilled my guts out. “Then who the hell is that?”
Linc shrugs, that crooked grin playing across his battered face. “I was wondering the same thing. I was just strolling by when I saw you yakking to a sheet.”
Heat rushes up my neck. I spin on my heel and march over, yanking the curtain open.
Lying there is a man old enough to be Moses, grinning up at me like he just won the lottery.
I scowl, doing my best to reclaim an ounce of dignity. “Why didn’t you stop me?”
“Sweetheart, I haven’t had this much action since The Beatles were still together. I wasn’t about to ruin the moment.”
I blink, caught somewhere between mortified and speechless.
Linc’s laughter breaks first, deep and husky.
I shoot him a glare. “Don’t you dare laugh.” Then I point at old man Skippy. “And you better believe I’m making sure they serve you nothing but oatmeal in this place.”
His gappy grin only widens. “I’ll lick the bowl clean if you’re the one feeding me.”
A groan slips out, but the corner of my mouth betrays me. Well…I guess that nurse’s judgment makes a little more sense now.
Linc’s laughter softens as he reaches for my hand. “Come on, Goldilocks. Let’s take this outside.”
The dirty old man gives one last shameless wave as we leave.
In the waiting room, Mike’s mid-conversation with another officer. His gaze catches mine—first surprise, then understanding. He shakes his head, already piecing together how I found out.
I wince, silently praying Hollis doesn’t catch too much heat.
Linc’s hand tightens on mine as he leads me out of the ER, the world smelling like rain and new beginnings.
For the first time since walking in, I let myself breathe, hopeful for the second chance we almost lost.
She’s a fucking mess.
Hair tangled, slippers stained, pajama shorts half-hidden beneath a shirt slipping off one shoulder. Her eyes are swollen, cheeks blotchy, a faint streak down her arm that might be syrup. Or tears. Or both.
And yet, she’s still the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.
The only face that came to me when that structure gave way. It wasn’t my parents’. Wasn’t my brothers’.
It was hers.
And I left her sitting in that restaurant like a goddamn coward because looking at her meant facing everything I’ve spent years hiding. Pride’s a bastard like that.
She steps closer now, fingertips brushing the cut on my lip. The smallest touch, but somehow, it hits harder than the damn beam that fell on me. “You sure you’re okay?”
My hand catches hers, keeping it there, as I kiss the pads of her fingers. “I’m good, Goldilocks. Promise.”
A tear slips free, then another, her lip trembling. “I’m so sorry.”
The hitch in her breath knocks the fucking wind right out of me. I drag her against my chest, unable to hold back a second longer.
“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, Harlow.” My hand slides up her back, steadying us both. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. You were right, I was being a sensitive little bitch.”
That earns me a wet laugh. “I didn’t call you a bitch,” she sniffles. “I called you sensitive.”
My smirk brushes against her hair. “I know. But I was definitely being a bitch too.”
She shakes her head. “No, you were right to be upset. I freaked out. Acted like a big, fat scaredy-cat. Which makes no damn sense because what you said is everything I wanted to hear. Everything I waited for…” Her eyes lift, lashes damp, voice dropping to a whisper. “Everything I ever wished for.”
The soft words hit like a slow burn, crawling through my chest until there’s no air left.
“I meant what I said in there, Linc. Every word. I love you. Always have, even when I pretended I didn’t. I want the key. I want the wishes. I want the whole damn fairytale.”
The confession hits like a fist. A truth I already knew but wanted to hear anyway.