Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 100202 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100202 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
“Ahh.” He looked at me like he was trying to see past the surface, to decipher some puzzle I wasn’t aware of. “Gavin.”
I swallowed, then nodded slowly. “I guess. I just wish her dreams were a little safer. And I only have a few more years before all those choices are hers. Her dad only made it to eighteen. I didn’t realize it then, but he was still a kid. We both were.”
“Every dream risks a broken heart, you know. There’s nothing completely safe in this world.”
I scooped another bite and fed it to him. “I’d rather she break her heart a dozen times and learn to dust herself off than break her body beyond repair.”
“Hmm.” He gave me that look again, like he was trying to understand me, then looked away, his brow knitting.
“What are you thinking?”
“It’s nothing.” He shook his head.
“It’s not nothing,” I said softly, stabbing the spoon into the pint so I could smooth the concerned lines of his forehead. “Tell me.” Trust me. Let me in.
“You said Gavin was a kid,” he said slowly. “And it just reminded me that Reed was too. He was eighteen.” His gaze shot to mine. “Not that the two situations are anything alike—”
“I know what you’re saying.” I slipped my hand to his cheek and savored the feel of his scruff against my palm. “And yeah, you were both just…kids, even if you were the one forced to grow up entirely too fast.”
“But you were too. You were only eighteen when he died, and what? Nineteen when Sutton was born? And yet, there’s not a drop of anger in you about the cards you were dealt.” He sighed. “And then there’s me.”
“I was absolutely angry about losing Gavin, about how unfair it was, not just for me but for Sutton.” Weston’s skin was warm to the touch as I slid my fingers to cup the side of his neck. “But I was mad at fate, and then I was…” I searched for the right words. “Heartbroken that my parents chose not to support my pregnancy. I was devastated when they threw me out. You saw me. I was a mess.”
He nodded, his lips flattening.
“And the truth is that I’m still angry. I just haven’t seen my parents since they threw me out, so I haven’t had the chance to blow up on them. I honestly don’t know if I’ll ever have the strength or the grace to see them again, even if they actually wanted us. But I chose Sutton, and I have no regrets.” My eyebrows rose as I looked into his eyes so he’d know I meant it, that he wasn’t the only one with mixed emotions about his family. “Sometimes I think we spend our adulthoods trying to heal whatever cut us as kids.” I took a steadying breath. “And maybe that’s what both you and Reed are doing here at Madigan. Trying to heal what sliced you open.”
Weston’s gaze shuttered, and my heart clenched in protest as I watched his shoulders straighten, as I watched him put his walls back up. He cleared his throat and stepped away, setting our contract on the counter. “You know, we’ve definitely busted leaving work at the door, but we’ve done very well with keeping shoes off the couch and pets out of the house.”
“Heaven forbid you attach to a hamster,” I muttered.
He raised a sardonic eyebrow. “I’ve done most of the cooking, but you’re way better than you led on when I moved in.”
“It’s more a of a quantity issue with me than quality,” I teased, swirling the spoon around the pint to scoop another bite. “And I think I’ve done well with rule number fourteen.”
His brow lowered as he studied the page. “There’s no rule fourteen.”
“Oh, it’s just on the draft. I removed it from the final copy to spare your tender feelings.” I batted my eyelashes with false innocence. “It says to remove the stick from Weston’s ass.”
He laughed.
“See?” I lifted the spoon between us. “You’re still pretty uptight outside the house, but in here? You’re absolutely stickless.”
“Is that so?” His eyes took on a flirtatious sparkle.
“It is.” I swept the spoon across his lips and then stole it back, taking the bite for myself. “Mmm.” I gave an exaggerated roll of my eyes. “So good.”
He palmed the back of my neck and pounced, kissing me deep. The chill of the ice cream melted with the heat of his tongue. My hands fell to my sides, abandoning the spoon and pint on the counter.
I tilted my head to give him better access, then parted my knees so I could get closer to him. He took the invitation, and I reached for his shoulders, his neck, the back of his head, any part I could get my hands on.