Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 81787 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81787 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
“I came here to apologize for what you’d heard.”
Not what I’d expected. “You came to apologize for saying it or because I’d heard it?” I asked, unable to mask the pain in my voice.
“Both. All of it.”
If his eyes didn’t look so tortured, I wouldn’t believe him. Why was he struggling here? We both knew he’d meant what he said. He hated me. Did it matter anymore? Not really.
“You’re forgiven. You could have just called though,” I told him. “If you’ll move, I can get out of your house.”
“Oakley, dammit, let me talk.”
My eyes snapped from the door behind him back to his face. “I did let you talk,” I replied.
“I didn’t mean what I said. I lied. I said those things because …” He paused and shoved his fingers into his dark locks with a frustrated frown. “I said them because I wanted to believe them.”
“Why? So that you have a reason to keep me away from Sarah? That’s cruel, Wilder. She’s all I have.” I choked on the last few words and jerked my eyes off him again to glare at the wall. I was not going to freaking cry again. Not in front of him.
“No. You’re great with Sarah. You’re exactly what she needs. I’m so fucking thankful that she has you in her life. And, yeah, I hated it. Hated that it had to be you who loved my kid like she was your own. It ate me alive. And I am telling you now that I was wrong, and I am sorry about it. I messed up. I let our past get in my head.”
I swung my gaze back to his face. The sincerity in his eyes made me weak. Just like his smile made me weak or how one kind word from him or brief moment with him made me stupid. Because I would think there was hope. I’d cling to it, only for it to be snatched away once again.
“Can you forgive me?” he asked.
I already had. That was the saddest part about this. There wasn’t much I wouldn’t do for him. Sure, I liked to say that the girl who had fallen madly in love with him was long gone, but it was my lie. She’d been broken, abused, and damaged. She had gotten tough. Found her independence. Fought for a life that she had security in. But she still had one weakness. Wilder.
“Yes.” That was all I could say. Any more would likely give me away. Show him too much. More than he ever needed or wanted to know.
His eyes searched my face for something, and I wasn’t sure what it was he wanted. “Come back with me. For Sarah.”
“Back to your mom’s?” I asked, surprised.
He nodded. “Unless you have a date you are trying to get to.”
I wanted to laugh. No, I didn’t because I had wanted to be here. With Sarah … and Wilder.
I lifted one shoulder. “If you call a bottle of red wine, The Holiday, and my flannel pajamas a date, then, yes, I have one.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “You still watch that movie on Thanksgiving?”
I nodded my head. “Yep. Every year.”
He pulled his bottom lip into his mouth, then released it. “Tell you what. If you get in that car with me and go back to my mom’s, then Sarah and I will watch it with you here tonight.”
Had I fallen down the stairs and hit my head? I glanced back at the stairs to see if my body was lying there and this was a hallucination. The floor was empty.
I turned back to Wilder and stared up at him. “Are you serious?” I asked slowly. Trying to decide if this was a joke of some sort.
“Very. Come back with me. Please.”
I held up my bag. “That would be breaking my get the hell out of your sight promise I made. Will I get to come back and stay with Sarah if I do this?”
A small laugh came from him. “Let’s forget I made you promise that. Okay?”
I stood there, speechless, then managed to nod.
“They’re keeping the food warm and waiting on us,” he told me.
My eyes widened. “They are waiting on me to come back?”
He nodded. “Yes, they are.”
I wasn’t sure if he was annoyed by that or not.
“That’s sweet of them. I thought after what you told Porter and Scott—”
“That they’d believe my shit and not like you? No go. You’d already gotten there and charmed the fuck out of the whole bunch. If I don’t bring you back, my mother isn’t going to let me eat, and she might never speak to me again.”
A laugh bubbled out of me. That felt good. No, it was better than good. It was a taste of being wanted.
Nine Years Ago
I had no memories of a happy Thanksgiving in this house. All the Thanksgivings I’d had with my mom had been at my grandparents’, and as hard as I tried to hold on to every memory I had of Mom, they were getting harder to remember clearly, the older I got. Asking Dad to talk about her was a mistake I wouldn’t make again. He’d shut down on me for weeks after I brought her up.