Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82955 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82955 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
I’ve dreamed about revenge in stupid ways over the years. It seemed only natural, but when given the chance, I won’t play a role in the destruction of him. “You didn’t hurt me.” The lie feels more normal than I expected. It should. It’s a cardigan I’ve cuddled up in many times over the past ten years. The lie flowed like water to my sisters and my grandmother. I told it to a friend in college and coworkers I’d grown close to. I was fine. No need to worry about me. I’ll be fine to the outside world, even if I’m not on the inside.
The air feels lighter for some reason, as if I’ve visited this comfort zone before. I get my glass and take another sip, then a gulp. The water is refreshing, as if dehydration had been the problem before.
I look at him still standing where I left him, breathing easier, and say, “We should go to bed.”
Lowering his head, he walks toward the hall but stops just before reaching it. “Can I ask one last thing of you?” He knows.
Reading me like an open book, he knows this is where it ends. Come morning, he’ll have no use of my services, and I’ll go home. He doesn’t need me any longer. Excluding me and the accident, his thoughts are sharp, his back is healing, the swelling around his eye is gone, and he has no trouble seeing. Only his shoulder still needs care, and if I’m being honest, it’s something he can do himself.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Will you stay with me?” Even the short distance can’t hide the temperament in his gaze—the sincerity, the ache, the vulnerability that I’m positive not many others, if any, have seen in him before. “No sex. Just be there with me.” As much as I love that he’s so honest and open with me, it’s the yearning that draws me toward him.
I take his hand and lead us back down the hall. I don’t need to reply. He knew the answer before he asked the question. So did I. This isn’t desire, although that’s strong between us. It’s part of that unfinished business he senses, and I have always felt. It’s just best to get it out of our systems so when the sun rises, we can part. I’ll walk away, leaving nothing to chance and closing that old chapter once and for all.
CHAPTER 17
BRANDON
Autumn is in the room.
I give her credit where it’s due. Even if I wasn’t watching her flip from one side to the other, punch her pillow, then try ten other positions to get comfortable, she’d claim being in the room counts for my request. “Last chance to sleep in this big and comfy bed where you can spread out or lie flat instead of sleeping in that recliner.”
“This is best.”
I tuck my hand behind my head, leaving the other flat on the bed to support my bandaged shoulder. “Is it?” I’m teasing, but she’s a good sport. A nasally scoff is her only response. I watch as she shuffles the pillow once more before she sits up and throws it on the floor. “Everything okay over there?”
“I can’t get comfortable, and it’s pissing me off.”
“Why does it piss you off?” Do I already know the answer? Absolutely. But I can only toss the offer out so many times.
She shoots me a glare that cuts through any darkness and pierces me in the chest. “I have a bed in the other room.”
“You do, and you can sleep in it if you want to.”
Lunging to her feet, she grabs the pillow and says, “Good night,” as she bolts out the door.
I’m not upset. She’s walking a precarious line between her job and what she desires. Forcing her isn’t what I want. I was hoping she would stay here with me. If not, I won’t push. “Good night.”
Her door closing echoes in response. No spite or slam. Just a gentle closing. It’s late. She’s tired. We got so close in the shower. Seeing the curve of her waist and the swell of her hips, her nipples pushing against the wet material of those triangle cups. I was rock hard. Can’t blame me for seeing if another opportunity would arise between us.
It was my last chance. I called her for help since that’s what she keeps reminding me she’s here for. But she knew good and well that I could wash my body through the discomfort. And if I have no pain, she has no reason to stay.
She’s gone in the morning. She didn’t say the words, but I felt her distancing herself. I’m a case being closed, a file tucked into a cabinet, a patient being wheeled out the door. This is what she does. She cares for people until they don’t need her. I might not need her, but I sure as fuck like her being here.