Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 68599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
“All you need to understand is that it’s my decision, and it’s my life. And I won’t apologize for it.”
My throat tightened a little hearing him say that to her.
He was doing it. He was standing up to her. He wasn’t apologizing. And he deserved every last hard-won bit of that small victory.
She just shook her head, glanced at me like I was a pest, and looked back at him.
“I’ll call you next Sunday,” she said before turning quickly and walking off to leave the brewery.
The door shut again and we were plunged into silence again. The distant sound of a cricket chirping came through the evening as I sucked in a lungful of air.
I didn’t even have to ask to know how Sawyer felt. His face was blank, numb, the usual sunshine replaced with a zombie-like stare.
This little incident had been a repeat of similar situations over the course of Sawyer’s entire life. I’d heard from him countless times about fights where his mother had looked down on him just like this, had said cutting and cruel things to him without ever stopping to think of the effect it had.
There was only one thing I knew I needed to say.
“I’m proud of you,” I told him, my voice low. “I know how hard it is to speak out against her. But you did it. You respectfully told her you wouldn’t apologize, and I’m proud of you.”
He still looked numb. He was staring out at one of the newer little solar lights that they had installed around the perimeter of the back area, and his expression remained unchanged.
I took a step closer toward him on the deck, hesitating just for a moment.
All week, my plan had been to let Sawyer take the lead on interactions with me. I’d been trying so hard to be business-as-usual, friendly, and not pressure him either way into talking about our hookup in the inn.
But this was a time when it didn’t matter if Sawyer was into me, not into me, a friend, or a pure stranger.
I knew he needed comfort. Awkwardness be damned.
I leaned in and gently wrapped my arms around him, pulling him into a steady hug. He was motionless at first, but slowly, he relaxed in my arms until finally burying his head against my chest.
“I’m so fucking overwhelmed,” he said, his voice muffled against my shirt. I could feel him inhale deeply, then let out a long breath. “What am I doing, Moose? With anything in my life?”
I squeezed him tighter against me. “You’re doing a goddamn good job, is what.”
He leaned back, using the heel of his palm to wipe at his cheek. He wasn’t full-on crying, but I could see that he was holding back a few tears, and my heart may as well have been crushed in a trash compactor.
“Everything I do feels like a mistake,” he said, his voice quiet and broken. “Always has.”
“You know your mother is wrong about you.”
He waved a hand through the air. “Of course I do. She’s just projecting her fears onto me, because she’s embarrassed that she can’t tell her friends at the country club that her son is a lawyer or doctor or even a junior executive. I’m used to her bullshit, as sad as that is.”
“Then why feel like a mistake?” I asked him gently. “Nothing you do is a mistake, as far as I’ve ever seen.”
He glanced up at me, something smoldering behind his eyes. “For one, I can’t even act normal around you anymore.”
“So don’t, then.”
He paused, his gaze dancing over my face. “What do you mean by that?”
I gave him a shrug, even though I could feel a fizzle of something in my chest. A fizzle that made me realize I was doing something risky.
“Don’t act normal around me, then,” I repeated. “Be awkward. Be weird. Stumble. And I’ll still love you through every moment of it.”
His eyes widened momentarily, almost as if he’d been waiting for me to acknowledge it.
God, I wanted to kiss him. I was good at holding back, good at letting him take the lead, but right now every muscle in my body felt magnetized toward him, and every beat of my heart felt like it belonged to him.
I couldn’t stop staring at his lips. At the corners of his eyes that held tears, just moments ago.
I needed him to know how much he mattered. How good he was, even if he didn’t believe it.
“Harlan,” he said. “Part of why I feel so overwhelmed is that I don’t know if I should feel guilty. For what we did.”
No.
I let my hands rest on his hips, holding him. I felt like a crazed animal again, trying to hold myself back from what I wanted, trying to contain the rush of emotion inside me.
“Guilty?” I asked. “What the hell do you mean?”