Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 88064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
I don’t miss the place or the person I was in it.
I like this version of me and this new life I’ve stumbled into so much more.
"I don’t know, Dad," I say. "I love it here."
He clears his throat, a sign that he’s not sure about what he’s about to ask. "Have you met someone?"
"Maybe," I say. "But you know I don’t talk about that stuff."
"You will one day," he says. "When it’s right. When whoever it is has won your trust and truly knows you inside and out. You will when you find what I had with Mom."
The tears I’ve been holding back spill over my cheeks and a shuddering sob leaves my lips. I don’t know if I’ll ever fully get over my grief at her loss. I know Dad won’t. She was a part of him, and it’s hard to live with a piece of yourself missing.
"Just enjoy your life, Dawn. Not because you fear that it might not be that long, but for the sheer hell of it."
"I will, Dad. I will."
"Promise you’ll call and message more often. I just need to hear from you every so often so that I know you’re safe."
"You mean you’re not checking my Insta?" It’s said with a hint of sarcasm because he likes and comments on every photo I post.
"I don’t get to hear your lovely voice over Insta, do I?"
"Point taken." I wipe my damp cheeks as I say goodbye and then slump back onto my bed, staring up at the cracked ceiling, no longer feeling like a bird in the cage. For the first time since Mom died, the door to my cage is open. Now, all I have to do is fly through.
But which direction should I go?
38
BRYCE
The night Dawn finds out she is in the clear will forever be etched into my mind. We somehow manage to work a full shift, even though all we want is to take Dawn in our arms and tell her how happy we are and encourage her to stay.
Dawn gets the night off, of course. There’s no way she’d be able to concentrate after her experience.
Eventually, when the last customer leaves and Lachlan stashes the money in the safe, we head out back to the chill-out zone. We find Dawn resting in a hammock with a book propped open on her chest and her eyes closed. In the soft glow cast from the tall iron night-light, she looks like an angel.
"We should leave her to sleep," Lachlan whispers, holding his arms out to stop the rest of us from getting too close and disturbing her.
"We should wake her," Logan says more firmly. "It’s what she wants."
Jared disturbs an empty beer bottle on the floor and the sound of glass against stone is enough to disrupt Dawn’s dreams. Her eyes flash open and her gaze flitters between the nine of us.
"We all heard the good news," Mitchell says, reaching out to take her hand. "How are you feeling?"
"Relieved," she says. "Sad too, but I’ll get over it. It’s all just been a tremendous shock, but in a good way." She pauses, inhaling a deep breath and pushing it through pursed lips. "To be honest, my emotions are all over the place."
"That’s understandable," I say, pulling a magic rose from my back pocket and presenting it to her. "How can we help you?"
"Smooth, dude." Bradley rolls his eyes in a way that he only gets away with because he’s my twin.
"Thank you," Dawn says softly, bringing the rose to her nose. It’s made of fabric, but I scented the petals with rose oil. "And I know how you can all help me."
"I think we know too," Cooper says hopefully.
"Dude, you have sex permanently on the brain," Lachlan grumbles, which is rich coming from him.
"We all have sex permanently on the brain," Mitchell says.
"Only with me, I hope," Dawn says, frowning at us all with pretend jealousy and when we all nod, she laughs and places a hand over her heart. "Aw, you guys make me feel all warm and squishy inside."
"We will if you ever get off that bloody hammock," Jared says, sounding so British that Dawn stares at him with fascination.
"Keep talking like that, baby," she says, finally scrambling to leave the fabric confines.
All night we show her exactly how happy we are that she’s okay and exactly how much we want her to stay. We tell her with our fingers, lips, tongues, and cocks, losing track of the number of times she cries out in release.
We could tell her what we want. We could share what we need.
Just her. Just Dawn Mitchell in all her flawed perfection.
But words aren’t Dawn’s love language. Physical touch is how she communicates.
Sex is where she loses herself and emerges again, reborn.
Two days pass. Two days of perfection where we all believe that this is it. Dawn’s allowing herself to feel and believing this amazing thing between us can be real and true and long lasting.