Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 102361 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102361 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
“No, stop it.” His hand grips my upper arm, and he turns me to him, then cups my face. “I’m so fucking over being angry, Jules. It consumed me for more than a decade. Besides, we were both at fault for how things went down.”
My face crumples again, and I close my eyes.
“I have you back with me, and I’m not going to feed into the anger or the frustration anymore. I’m just not. It was eating me alive. For whatever reason, it just wasn’t the right time for us, baby.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Hey.” He tips my chin up and makes me look him in the eyes. I absolutely hate seeing the tears in his beautiful hazel eyes. “I am not telling you this to make you hurt, Wildfire. I don’t want you to hurt any more than you already have.”
“It’s fucking agony,” I reply, my lips quivering as every muscle in my body shakes with rage and despair. “I could have been your wife for all of these years. We could have had babies, and an amazing family, and—”
“No more.” He shakes his head and leans in to rest his forehead to mine. He has to lean down so far, it would be laughable if I weren’t losing my mind with regret and sadness. “We can still have those things, baby.”
“We lost so much time.”
“And we have plenty ahead of us.” He wipes his thumbs under my eyes, clearing away the tears. “We need to stop dwelling on what we lost and focus on the fact that we found each other again, and this is just the beginning of an amazing life together.”
His voice holds so much conviction.
“You need to understand that I’m never letting you go again, Juliet. Never. You’re mine. If you want to live in the house that I bought for you fifteen years ago, that’s great with me. If you want me to gut and renovate this one for you, perfect. Let’s do it. I don’t care where we live as long as we’re there together, sleeping in our bed, with you in my arms. Because I’ve already endured this life without you, and I refuse to spend another minute in that fucking purgatory.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I promise him, wrapping my arms around his neck. He easily lifts me into his arms, and I wrap my legs around his waist before he deposits me on the countertop. “I don’t care where we live, either. I just need to be with you because you’re the love of my life, Brooks. You’re the only one who makes sense, the only person I need.”
“Jesus, I needed to hear you say that.” He buries his face in my neck, and I push my fingers into his thick, dark hair. “I love you, baby. It’s always been you. Hell, I’d marry you today.”
I smirk at that, letting the love pouring from him fill my heart and smooth out all of the rough edges.
He’s holding me so tenderly, it’s a balm to my bruised heart. I don’t know how long we stay like this. It could be minutes or an hour, but finally, he moves back just a little and wipes the last of my tears away.
“Do you want to see the rest of the house?” he murmurs, still caressing me, soothing me.
“Please. Give me a tour.”
I hop down, and with his hand holding mine tightly, as if he’s worried I might slip away—spoiler alert: never happening—he leads me through the rest of the first floor, showing me a laundry room, a guest bedroom, the living room, and then leads me to the study.
“I thought this would make a nice library for you. Install built-in bookcases, a cozy chair and table. It wouldn’t be as grand as Billie’s because Connor’s a fancy fuck, but it could work.”
I’m blinking up at him in surprise. “I think I just fell in love with you.”
Brooks barks out a laugh. “It took me mentioning a library to do that?”
“I mean, it didn’t hurt. You’d be okay with me taking over a whole room?”
“The whole house is yours, Juliet. Do whatever the fuck you want.”
“You would have to live here, too, you know.”
“I have what I want.” He kisses the top of my head and leads me to the staircase. “I have you. Let’s go up. The second floor needs more work than the first does.”
“Is that even possible?”
He winces. “Yeah, it’s possible. Old house, remember? If this is too much of a project for you, and you’d rather we sold both houses and bought something newer—”
“Do I look like a woman who’s afraid of a DIY project, Mr. Blackwell?”
“No, you lived in an attic. Remember?” His voice is growly, and he narrows his eyes at me. “A fucking attic, Juliet.”
“Hey, it served the purpose.”
“Yeah, the purpose of punishing yourself.”