Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 40546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 203(@200wpm)___ 162(@250wpm)___ 135(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 203(@200wpm)___ 162(@250wpm)___ 135(@300wpm)
"I think I just destroyed my entire family," I whisper.
"No." His thumbs brush away tears I didn't know I was crying. "You just saved yourself from people who never deserved you." His forehead presses against mine. "Christ, Marley. Watching you up there, telling the truth, choosing yourself... I've never been so fucking proud of anything in my life."
"They're never going to forgive me."
"Good. Means you did it right." His arms slide around me, pulling me against his chest until I'm surrounded by him. "You don't need their forgiveness, little girl. You need to live your own fucking life. But, they do love you. I can see it. They’ll come around. They have to go loosen up the springs they’ve got up their asses. It will take time, but it will happen."
"I'm scared," I admit.
"I know you are." His voice drops to that growl that makes my knees weak. "But you're not doing this alone. You're mine now, baby. Mine to protect, mine to take care of, mine to love. And I'm going to spend every day making sure you know you're enough. Just as you are."
"Ms. Voss?" Dr. Brooks approaches, her eyes bright with excitement. "If you're serious about journalism, I have contacts at several publications that would kill for this kind of fearless reporting. The courage to examine your own life this honestly? That's exactly what the field needs. You took a huge risk today. We need more of that."
I look up at her, this stranger who sees something in me. Potential. "Really?"
"Hell yes. You just proved you're willing to blow up your entire life for truth. That's what great journalists do."
As the committee files out, discussing my "unconventional but compelling methodology," I stay wrapped in Cade's arms, processing the magnitude of what just happened.
I just submitted my love story as academic research. I chose authenticity over approval, truth over reputation, love over fear.
And somehow, impossibly, it feels like victory.
"So," Cade says quietly, his voice still rough with emotion, "what happens now? What do you want from your life?"
"Now?" I look up at him, this man who saw my potential when I couldn't see it myself, who loved me into becoming real. "Now I stop apologizing for who I am. Sometime soon I'll make a decision about the future, but not today and not tomorrow. For now, there's only one thing I want."
"Tell me, baby girl."
"Us." I rise up on my toes to kiss him, right here in the academic conference room where I just defended my thesis on falling in love with my wilderness instructor. " I plan to research us very thoroughly. For the rest of my life, actually. And, I'd like to spend some time in the toy aisles at Target. I want to be...frivolous."
His laugh is rich and warm and possessive as hell. "Fuck yes. Whatever you want, little girl. An unlimited budget in the toy aisle. Anything that makes you happy."
"I love you, baby."
"I love you too, Daddy."
The word still sends electricity through both of us, but now it's ours. Our secret language, our private truth, our perfect imperfection.
And for the first time in my life, that's enough.
More than enough.
It's everything.
Twelve
Marley
Epilogue ~ 6 Months Later
The new wing Cade built is everything I never knew I wanted. This is mountain cabin perfection, a place for me to study, to think, to read through the romance and fantasy books already starting to fill the shelves that line the walls. It’s not luxury. Luxury isn’t something either of us would want. But it’s mine, and Cade made it just for me, and I love it.
No sticks that look like they shouldn’t ever hold together here. Just huge logs made into walls, a thatched roof, and an interior I had a hand in decorating.
Fairy lights, a pastel-blue rug, a chalkboard and a shelf stacked with stuffed animals, all of which have names.
Things I never got to experience growing up, but that now I get to enjoy without feeling judged, without feeling self-conscious.
Oh, and a mini fridge filled with juice boxes, that I get to enjoy “as a treat” so long as I also eat proper meals.
Sarah came to visit with her Derek her husband last week and it was like having family over. Relaxed and fun. I drank wine and Sarah and I did Karaoke on the machine Cade bought for me.
She was so happy for me. Cade promised we would go visit them in their new home outside of Chicago where Sarah is working as a nurse and Derek owns his own construction company.
I’ve had little contact with my parents, but I need the time. I need a parental detox and I know they love me and what Cade said that day at the university, they’ll come around.
“Journalistic ethics,” I repeat again, tapping the ruler against the chalk board. I don’t miss the way Cade’s gaze dips to my thighs, where the button up he lent me—the only item of clothing I’m currently wearing—lifts as I reach up. “Mr. Boone, can you tell the class the difference between objectivity neutrality?”