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)
Dolly hands me a tissue. “That’s what love does to ya.” Needless to say, I didn’t have to say a word about my relationship for all of my family to already know. Winter made sure everyone was all caught up. I’m not even mad about it. It saved me from having a multitude of conversations. I’ve just gotten to reap the rewards and hold his hand in public now.
I laugh as I dab the inside corners of my eyes. “Makes you cry?”
Leaning closer, she whispers, “Makes your heart feel too big for your body to hold in any longer.”
She’s not wrong. My love for Brandon has far outpaced the days we’ve been together and outgrown the space I have in my chest. Our love is too big to contain. And to see everyone we care about, from my grandmother to my sisters, Daniel, and my nephew Roman, sitting together with his mom and brother on this special occasion, only one word comes to mind. Family. That’s what we were long before Brandon got injured and I came to my senses.
I think back on that photo of the two of us sitting on the stairs after my parents’ funeral. He was there for me even then. When he could have been playing with others in the yard, or eating his way through the tremendous amount of food everyone brought over, he wasn’t. He was with me, giving me comfort that I didn’t know I needed until he sat down on the stairs. Just like then and now, it’s always been him.
After the ceremony, I hold back to give his firefighting buddies their time to celebrate the promotion with him, the family he helped save the chance to thank him—which they do with tears and hugs—and his mom space to dote on her son while sharing how proud she is of him.
Our eyes find each other in the group each time we think there’s going to be a break in the line of people wanting to shake his hand. He smiles at me, and we silently exchange how we’ll be celebrating later with a few waggles of our eyebrows. I might have teased that I’m not wearing anything underneath this dress just in case he wants to ravage me before we make it home.
Home.
Wherever he is, I’ll be, because it’s not the place. It’s him for me.
I finally see an opportunity to sneak in but stop when Ludlow confronts him. Ludlow looks over at me, then repositions so his back is toward me. Such an asshole.
Brandon crosses his arms over his chest and listens, but he doesn’t appear entertained. He glances at me before he levels a glare at Ludlow and says something through tense lips. It’s probably not good if they keep talking.
I move through the lingering crowd, making my way around the mayor toward the stage. I hear it before I see it—the sound of a punch landing on its target. I run up the side steps, watching the doctor stumble backward into plastic folding chairs and land on his ass.
“Brandon?” I call, dashing in front of him. “No. Don’t.”
“Too late.” His eyes are focused, the prey so close to be taken down again if he’s stupid enough to open his mouth.
“You’re done, son.” Ludlow jabs a finger in the air as he pushes up again like he is a big boss when we know he’s scum. And has Ludlow not seen the size of his opponent’s muscles? I could write books about them and their gloriousness.
So stupid . . .
I slam my hands against Brandon’s chest to keep him from finishing this guy off. “He doesn’t matter. Let’s just go.”
Tucker jumps onto the stage and is dragging Ludlow off the back of it when Brandon looks at me and grins. Holding up the key and the medal, he asks, “What do I get for being a hero, Nurse?”
I catch the crew of firefighters clearing the nuisance from the area. They stick together, all right, and will handle it. As for this guy, I wrap my arms around his neck and lift on my toes to get closer to those incredible lips. “What do you want, Captain?”
“I’d rather show you.”
CHAPTER 29
BRANDON
My shoulder still bothers me sometimes, but only when I’ve pushed it too hard—lugging a ladder around at work or holding my girl up while I fuck her in the shower for the third time in one day. Taking it slow just isn’t something I’m good at. Ask my girlfriend.
My girlfriend.
After trying that title on her for size, I’ve determined it doesn’t fit Autumn. Yep, not taking it slow is becoming my motto. But I’m not naive. She likes plans and loves a good itinerary. So, popping the question too soon won’t work for her, which means it’s no good for me either. I’ll be patient. It’s been ten years of patience, and now almost two months with only sporadic memories returning, I’m a pro at it.