Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 108165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
“Wylder!” Jack chases him. “It’s bedtime.” He gives me an apologetic frown, scooping him up again.
Wylder kicks and flails.
“When you shut your door, he’ll settle down. He just sees your light on.”
I nod, staring at Wylder and his discomfort from being held back. “How about a book?”
“I have books for him. But he doesn’t want to have them read to him right now.” Jack carries him to the living room again.
As I shut my door, I hear, “Wylder, you can’t go in there. It’s time to sleep, buddy.”
My heart aches for him. It aches for me. It aches for so many reasons. I make my way to the living room. Jack is on the sofa, bear-hugging Wylder to keep him from me. Wylder sees me and stills for a second.
I smile and hold out my hand.
Jack eyes me for a breath before easing his hold on Wylder. The little boy slides to his feet and takes my hand. We make it two steps before he tugs in the opposite direction. When I glance back, Wylder holds his other hand to Jack.
“I’m sleeping here, buddy.” He gives Wylder a shrug.
Wylder pulls on my hand more but doesn’t let go as his other hand makes an impossible stretch toward his grandpa.
When Jack lifts his gaze to mine, I give him a little nod. He slowly stands from the sofa, keeping his attention on me while he accepts Wylder’s chubby little hand. I lead the train to my bedroom.
Wylder finds his spot in the middle. Jack and I remain silent while we climb onto each side. I shut off the light, and that warm little body snuggles into my side. I could cry. If I didn’t know better, I’d say Wylder is John reincarnated. He’s here to show me that I’m not broken. I’m not alone. And I’m safe now.
As Wylder’s body starts to melt and relax, and he slides into a slumber, I move my hand to rub his back. My fingers don’t find his jammy-covered back; they find Jack’s hand resting on it.
He quickly moves it, and I feel an instant pang of … I’m not even sure. Regret? Sadness?
I lie still in the dark.
Silence.
A cocoon.
Maybe a breath. That’s it. I take a real breath where my lungs fully expand, and I don’t feel suffocated.
When I close my eyes, I don’t see Archer.
I don’t smell him.
I don’t hear his voice.
I can’t remember how I felt when that man put his hand over my mouth.
And I don’t want to sleep because I’m scared this won’t last. When the sun rises, it will bring all those memories back to life.
So, I focus on every inch of my body connected to Wylder.
Every long, deep breath.
And the beautiful, peaceful silence.
My hand falls from his back and stretches toward the center of the bed, lying idle, palm open.
Take my hand …
The pads of Jack’s fingers ghost across mine.
Tears flood my eyes, and I smile.
It’s barely a whispered touch.
When it’s gone, I bend my fingers to see if he’s still there.
He is.
Our fingers lace together.
It fills me with such overwhelming emotion that I can’t help but close my eyes. And when I close my eyes, I fall into a sleep unlike anything I’ve experienced.
I wake alone.
I stretch.
When I look at my alarm clock, it’s ten thirty-five.
I grin.
Me! Yes, this girl … she slept over twelve hours. Again, I stretch, then roll to the side and bury my face into the pillow before pulling the sheets to my face, inhaling deeply, desperate to catch a whiff of Wylder or Jack.
After a long shower, I dry my hair, dress, and go to the living room. Jack’s on the sofa, reading a book from my bookshelf, The Alchemist.
“One of my favorite stories ever,” I say on my way to the kitchen for coffee. “Where’s everyone else?”
“They thought you were going to sleep for eternity, so they headed home.”
I stop. “Are you serious?”
He keeps his eyes on the book and smirks.
I continue my quest for coffee.
“They went into the city.”
“Why didn’t you go?”
“Because I had some reading to do.”
I roll my eyes, waiting not-so-patiently for my coffee. “Because you’re scared to leave me alone.”
“Scared for me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
I fucking love him.
I grab a sweatshirt and open the front door when my coffee's done.
“Um …” Jack follows me. “What are you doing?”
I step outside for the first time in a week. “Thought I’d drink my coffee outside.”
“Care for company?”
“That would be lovely.”
We sit in my rocking chairs and watch a few neighbors take their dogs on a morning walk while the trees shed their leaves. The air is cool and crisp—my favorite time of year.
“I grew up on a farm. We had a huge pumpkin patch that my parents opened to the public every October. Corn maze. Apple cider. A hayride. John and I would dress up as scarecrows just to see if we could scare the little kids.” I laugh. “But neither one of us could hold still that long. I love pumpkin spice, apple cider … pumpkin pie. All things fall.”