Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
His thrusts falter ever so slightly as I clench around him before he speeds up, lifting my leg and going deeper than ever before, riding me through the wave taking me under. He thrusts one last time and buries himself deep inside me with a groan. Panting and sweaty, I curl my arms around him when his weight settles against my chest, and I scrub my fingers through his hair.
“You need a haircut,” I mumble, sounding drunk to my own ears, even though I’m not. His chest moves with silent laughter, and then we’re rolling, and I’m in the same position I woke up in this morning. Sprawled across his chest, my ear over his pounding heart him still buried inside of me.
“You gonna cut it for me?” he asks softly, skimming his fingers up, then down my spine.
“Yes.” I shiver, and he shifts us slightly to drag the blanket over us.
Warm and exhausted, I listen to the tempo of his heartbeat slow, my eyes getting heavier and heavier with every beat.
“Tell me about your parents.” The quiet question is like a bucket of cold water being dumped over me, waking me up. “I thought because of the way you spoke about them that they were still alive.”
“They are.” My chest aches. “Inside me,” I clarify softly, the pain from their loss still so fresh, even though it’s been years since I lost them both.
“What happened to them?”
“My dad passed away when I was twenty. He had a heart attack in his sleep. My mom found him the next morning, when she realized he wasn’t getting up to make her coffee like he always did. She thought maybe he was sick, but by the time she checked on him, he was cold, and she knew.”
“Em.” His hold on me tightens, and I squeeze my eyes closed.
“My parents were…” I swallow, trying and failing to fight back the tears that burn the back of my throat. “They were best friends. They bickered all the time about everything under the sun, but they were best friends. They loved each other more than anything, more than even me and my sister. And I know they loved us, but the love they had for each other was different.” I swallow. “Mom… she tried, but she was lost without him. They did everything together. You would never see one of them without the other, and when Dad was gone, Mom didn’t want to….” I shake my head. “I don’t think she could survive without the other half of her soul. And with Gianna and me not living at home, she just…. I think she just knew we would be okay without her.”
“Baby.”
“Dad would have been so mad at her for giving up, but sometimes I wonder if he had been the one left behind, if he might have done the same.”
“What happened to her?”
“She overdosed. I was living close to home with a boyfriend and working at a bar, so I would go over and check on her whenever I got off work at night.” I shiver and squeeze my eyes closed; the memory still so fresh I swear I can feel it.
“I got to the apartment she rented, because she couldn’t stay in the house she and Dad shared, and I knew the second I opened the door. I didn’t want to go inside, but I told myself I was being ridiculous. I hadn’t been. I found her in her bed, with a note on the nightstand addressed to me and Gianna next to an empty bottle of pills. I just remember screaming over and over, trying to wake her up. I called 911, but I didn’t need to. Her neighbor had done the same when he heard me.” I drag in a shaky breath. “When the ambulance and the police showed up, they tried to bring her back, but it was… It was already too late. I—”
“You can stop,” he cuts me off, his voice sounding pained. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
“I was so angry at her for so long. I might not have needed her like I did when I was little, but I still needed her. She was my mom.” The pain I’ve kept tucked away bubbles to the surface, and a sob I can’t control climbs up the back of my throat. It’s been years since I’ve cried over what happened, years since I’ve even really spoken about my parents.
My eyes are burning by the time the tears begin to dry up, and I’m absolutely exhausted, mentally and physically. I feel lips against my brow right before he rolls us to the side.
“I’ll be right back,” he says quietly, getting out of bed.
I absently hear the bathroom sink turn on, then him moving around. Minutes later, he comes back to join me, and half asleep, I startle when I feel a warm cloth between my legs. When he’s done, he helps me sit up and slides a shirt on over my head. A shirt that is as soft and as worn as the one I wore last night, and my nose begins to sting once more. Turning off the light next to the bed, he gets in under the blankets and drags me closer.