Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77827 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77827 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Now isn’t the time for that. She’s bleeding, and the last thing she needs is me handing her my heart, asking her to hold something else together when she can barely hold herself. So, I swallow it down, all of it, and just hold her tighter.
Her sobs start to quiet eventually, fading into soft, uneven breaths. My hand keeps moving through her hair, slow and steady, as if I were to stop, she might fall apart all over again.
The winter wind outside rattles the windows, reminding me why I’m lucky enough to have her in my arms, in my bed, even with the tears. I’m grateful that I’m the one comforting her when she needs it. She’s here in my arms, where I can take care of her, even if it’s only to hold her through the tears and the pain he left behind.
“I’m right here, Baylor,” I murmur, more promise than reassurance. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Not tonight.
Not tomorrow.
Not ever, if I have anything to say about it.
Her tears eventually dry up, and her breathing evens out, but my hold on her never wavers. I don’t know how many chances I’ll have to be this close to her. I hope that our future holds a lifetime of nights snuggled together, but I’m not sure. With her, I’m the air of confidence, but the truth is, I’m scared as hell that I won’t be able to fix what he broke.
Nine
Baylor
* * *
The roads are clear, but my head is not. How could it be when I woke up in his arms? His gruff, “Good morning” in my ear, and his sexy ass making me breakfast. Last night was a surprise, and I’m still not sure how I feel about everything Macklin dropped on me.
However, the day must go on, and I’ve already received a slew of text messages from my nosy sisters, asking whether I’m going to be working today or holed up with Macklin. I’ve ignored every single one of them, because, yes, of course, I’m working, and as for Macklin, how do I tell them everything we talked about last night?
Shaking out of my thoughts, I take a quick glance in the foggy bathroom mirror. I rushed home on, thankfully, now-clear roads. The county workers must have worked all night to make that happen. Heroes, I tell you. Anyway, I raced home for a shower and a quick change of clothes, and now, I’m tugging on my boots and hurrying out the door.
Thankfully, I don’t run into my sisters or my brother-in-law, which gives me false hope, because when I step inside my office, I find all three of my sisters with coffees in hand, each munching on a muffin—from the smell of it, blueberry—camped out in my office.
“I expected you to look more rumpled,” Courtlynn says, taking a massive bite of her muffin.
“Rumpled?” I ask, tossing my purse onto the small filing cabinet, before leaning against it. Ellison’s in my chair, the other two are in the guest chairs, so this is my only choice. Besides, maybe not sitting will encourage them to get out so I can work.
“Yeah, you know, rumpled from your walk of shame.”
“There is no walk of shame, Court. I had dinner at Macklin’s. The snow hit us both unexpectedly, and he threw a hissy fit, telling me that if I was going home, he was driving me. I’d never forgive myself if he were in an accident going home, so I relented and stayed.” All three of my sisters nod. They know where my fear of an accident comes from. The four of us live with the outcome of that phone call on a stormy night that changed our lives.
“A hissy fit?” Ellison asks, raising her eyebrows.
“Fine, maybe not a hissy fit, but he was very stern with his ‘if you go home, I’m driving you,’ so I stayed.” I shrug as if it’s no big deal.
“And the dinner?” Leighton asks.
“It was dinner.” I pick a piece of lint from my oversized sweater off my black leggings. I have several pairs, because they’re the best invention ever. They go with everything, every season, and they’re a staple in my closet—my sisters’, too. It’s nice to be able to wear them all the time rather than the pencil skirts I used to wear to work every day. I don’t miss those at all. Not even two full weeks, and I’m still finding things about my life in New York that I don’t miss. Todd is the biggest.
“What kind of dinner?” Courtlynn presses.
“And why didn’t we know you were having dinner with Macklin?” Ellison asks.
“I thought you were on maternity leave?” I deflect.
“Not yet, little sister.” She grins. “Come on, tell us what’s going on,” Ellison says, her voice softer. She sounds just like our mom used to, which has me swallowing back a lump in my throat. I miss our parents every single day. That’s part of why I wanted to flee Magnolia Ridge, and I know I need to deal with the emotions I ran from at some point, but today is not that day.