Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 74875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
“You want to go steal a dog with me?”
My brows rose at that.
“There was a dog at the house I repossessed a car from today. He or she, I’m not sure which, was skin and bones and I feel like an asshole for leaving it there.”
I thought about it for a moment.
Did I want to get into a vehicle with this man after the day I’d spent worrying about him and what I should and shouldn’t do about our semi-relationship status?
But then I got a load of Tate’s eyes, and immediately reached for my keys.
“Yeah,” I cleared my throat. “Sure.”
“If we take my bike, I might be able to get him faster than if I took the truck,” he paused. “You’ll have to hold onto the dog…shit, that won’t work.”
“We can take my car,” I offered. “I need some gas, but as long as we stop at some point for it, then I think we’ll be okay.”
He pursed his lips in thought, and I started down the steps, knowing what his answer would be before he actually voiced it.
Walking up to my car, I opened it up and slid into the driver’s seat, slamming the door closed.
Then I started it up, thankful when it didn’t do that weird little whine that it’d been doing lately.
Tate slid inside, and immediately slid the seat back as far as it would go—which admittedly wasn’t far.
I smiled and looked away, finding the sight comical.
My heart also hurt.
Having him this near me was doing something strange to my heart.
Especially now that I’d resolved myself to not having him.
It didn’t matter that he may or may not have a kid. It didn’t matter that I’d found him someone else to see for the remainder of his time needed in anger management. It also didn’t matter that I was so in love with him that it physically hurt to be sitting next to him.
What mattered was that I’d broken an ethical code. What mattered was that, with the way his life worked, I wasn’t going to be something special. He’d already told me that he wasn’t willing to change his life.
Plus, I wasn’t willing to live with only half a man who wasn’t willing to put me first.
I’d already done that—lived for another man.
My father had made sure that fairytale and reality were understood. This was the real world, where real world things happened. Sometimes you didn’t get what you wanted. Sometimes your mother died, and left you with a mad man. Sometimes, love wasn’t in the cards.
“Turn left up here, and go about two miles until you see the old truck on the right. Take the turn just after that,” Tate said, interrupting my morose thoughts.
“Okay,” I said softly.
Too softly, apparently, because he said, “Did you hear me?”
I nodded my agreement.
“Why aren’t you talking to me?” he asked.
Why wasn’t I talking to him? I wasn’t not talking to him. I just didn’t know what to say at this point.
What did you tell the man that you loved that you weren’t going to have anything to do with him anymore? That you’d transferred his care to another psychologist. That you’d called a realtor to find you a house that was not only not in the vicinity of him, but was in a different town entirely?
“I’m talking to you,” I hedged. “I think I’m coming down with a cold.”
The lie felt bitter on my tongue, but I didn’t really want to talk to him, even though I knew I would have to before the night was over.
He was acting like everything hadn’t changed overnight. Like he didn’t have a child to take care of now—a dying child at that.
I’d learned more over the last couple of hours since I’d been to the diner. Krisney had done nothing but text me for the last four hours about him, and at first I’d ignored them, but my curiosity had always gotten the best of me. This time had been no different.
Although it was all just stuff she’d heard, I was fairly sure that it was true.
If it hadn’t been, the look I’d seen on his face when he’d been talking to Ariya wouldn’t have been there this morning.
It was kind of hard to hide pain like that.
“I’m sorry to hear about your child,” I told him.
He looked over at me, studying the side of my face.
“You heard.”
Not a question, a statement.
“Yes,” I said. “The diner was all abuzz about it this morning. I’d, of course, heard little bits and pieces about it earlier than today, but I’d always written it off to the town gossips having some fun. Apparently, you confirmed it today with her.”
“Hmmm,” he rumbled.
“I’m sorry that she didn’t tell you,” I continued. “I feel terrible.”
“Turn right there.” He pointed.
I did.
“I mean, if you want to talk about it, I’m always here.”