Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 88463 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88463 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
“Willow!” I hurry down the hall and check our room. The bed is made, and the bathroom is sparkling and smells like cleaner. She obviously scrubbed this one first.
But no sign of her.
I rush back out and notice her studio door is closed, so I walk inside, and at first I don’t see her, but then movement in the corner catches my eye, and my chest feels like it cracks open and my heart stumbles right onto the floor.
She’s crouched in the corner, rocking, hugging her legs to her chest. Her headphones are on, and she’s mumbling with her eyes closed.
How am I supposed to get her attention without scaring the shit out of her?
I squat about three feet away from her. Everything in me wants to scoop her against me and hold her tight, consoling her.
But she’s shaking, in only a bra, and there are tear tracks on her cheeks, and I don’t want to startle her. Before touching her, I go find her a shirt and then return to the room, squatting before her once more. She hasn’t moved, and her bottom lip quivers.
Jesus, she’s breaking my heart.
Gently, I reach out and slip my fingers into hers, and her eyes open. She doesn’t jump or startle, so I pull her to her feet, quickly tug the T-shirt over her head, and then scoop her into my arms and carry her to my office next door so I can sit on the couch along the wall and cradle her in my lap.
I take her headphones off, set them aside, and then cup her cheek.
“Hey. I’ve got you. You’re safe. I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”
“This storm isn’t your fault,” she whispers, but she clings to me, buries her nose in my neck. “I was fine until the rain got so loud.”
“Crazy, isn’t it?” I glance to the window, where the rain continues to dump, although a little lighter than before. “I don’t remember the last time it rained this hard.”
Pressing my lips to her hair, I breathe her in. I’m soaked, and I’m getting her wet, too, but she doesn’t seem to care.
Or maybe she just hasn’t noticed.
“The power’s out. I didn’t know how to start the generator.”
“I’ll show you in a minute.” I kiss her forehead and then her nose before she buries her gorgeous face back in my neck. “I need to hold you first.”
“No complaints here. Shit, this makes me feel so weak. It’s so stupid. The storm isn’t going to hurt me. I know that, but—”
“You’re not weak or stupid.” I hook her chin on my finger and make her look at me. “Do you hear me? Don’t talk about my girl like that. You’re one of the bravest people I fucking know. So you have a thunderstorm phobia. We all have something we’re scared of.”
“What’s your thing?” she asks, not taking her eyes from mine, and I swallow hard.
I don’t want to admit this.
But she’s already being vulnerable with me, and I need to give some openness back to her.
So I take a breath. “I have a couple. One, the thought of something happening to you makes me lose my shit.”
She blinks rapidly.
“Always has, since we were teenagers. It’s one of the reasons I always stuck to you like glue, and I made you and Gid travel with me.”
“Wait.” She’s ignoring the sound of the storm now, frowning up at me. “I thought you just liked having the Three Amigos together.”
“Sure, that was part of it, but I had to have you close by because I didn’t want something to hurt you when I couldn’t be near you. I know it’s irrational.”
“Ry.” She shakes her head. “I didn’t even live in Seattle.”
“I know. I told you, it’s irrational. I was going to buy you a condo in Seattle so you’d be closer, but then everything happened with Aiden.”
“Do you know what that’s called in dark romance novels?”
Of course I do.
“Obsession,” she says before I can answer her.
Was I always obsessed with Willow? I’ve listened to all her audiobooks over the years, but I attributed that to being homesick and wanting to hear her voice. Is it really because I’ve been completely gone over her since the day I stepped foot on this ranch?
It’s possible.
All I can do is shrug at her.
“Okay.” She blows out a breath. “What else?”
“What do you mean?”
“You said there were a couple of phobias. What else?”
“That’s not enough of a confession for you?”
She narrows her eyes, waiting.
“That’s all you’re getting for today. Feel better?”
“Yeah.” She stands and pushes her hands through her hair. “Come on, I’ll make us some food. I skipped lunch.”
“For you to do that, I have to show you how to get the generator running. It’s easy.”
With her hand in mine, I lead her out to the garage and over to where the box is mounted on the wall.