Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 81021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
“No, Coop, I don’t think I can love you because I already love you. Despite your best efforts, you worked your way into my heart, gruff and sexy and badass.”
“Gruff?” One brow arches in question, pulling a small laugh from me. “Me?”
“The gruffiest,” I add with a smile.
In the next second, Coop is on his feet and pulling me up against his chest before his mouth crashes down on mine. I freeze for just a fraction of a second, but this is Coop. My love. My heart. My man.
The heat between us settles something deep within me, and I sink against his chest and grip his shoulders. This man is my rock. My protector. My hero.
I kiss him back with all the energy I can muster, which isn’t much, but it feels like everything. It feels like sunny days are on the horizon, like one day I’ll be me again. Whole again.
One day I won’t flinch when he touches me. I won’t wake up screaming and crying. I won’t jump at every unfamiliar noise or even the familiar ones.
The doorbell rings, and I jump back a foot with a gasp, heart racing all over again.
One day, but not today.
Coop just smiles and puts a settling hand on my shoulder. “Those blueberries are calling your name, babe.”
I drop down in my chair after a moment and skip the blueberries in favor of more eggs and bacon. And biscuits. There’s nothing to worry about. It’s quiet, and Coop is here, I tell myself while I eat, half-listening for any scuffle or trouble from the next room.
Coop re-enters the kitchen, my sister at his side. She’s not scowling or snarling at him. I jump out of my seat and wrap her in my arms.
“Kenna! What are you doing here?”
She encircles me in a tight hug that lasts a lot longer than I expect.
“Kelsey, I am so happy that you’re back to you.” She sniffles and squeezes me a little tighter. “So damn happy.” Kenna pulls back with a frown. “You are you again, aren’t you?”
“Not yet, but I will be. Eventually.” I give her arms a squeeze and take a step back. “Don’t blame Coop,” I urge her.
“I don’t,” she admits easily. “He saved you and brought you back from the dead.”
I shake my head. “I wasn’t on the brink of death, Kenna. Banged up and traumatized, but not near death.”
My sister shoots a confused look at Coop and then back to me.
“Kels, when I came to see you a few days after everything, you were basically catatonic. You wouldn’t speak or blink. You wouldn’t even acknowledge if you could hear me or Coop.”
I blink, shock shooting through me at her words.
“What are you talking about? This week has been rough, but I think I’m doing okay.” Even my therapist agrees.
“Oh, Kels.” She hugs me again, even tighter. “This is the end of the second week. You just laid there in bed for eight days straight, silent and staring off into space. I threatened to call the cops just to get you into a hospital, but Coop promised me you were getting everything you needed. I gave him a week, and when I came to see you on Monday, you were at least blinking.”
Tears swim in her eyes, and she hugs me once more.
I stare at Coop over her shoulder. Suddenly his worry seems justified. “How long has it been?”
“Sixteen days,” he says quietly, heartbreak darkening his deep blue eyes. “Sixteen agonizing days. But you’re back now.” He leans in and presses a kiss to my forehead.
Sixteen days! “Love you,” I mouth to him before he leaves to give me some time with Kenna.
She takes the seat Coop had sat in and steals a slice of bacon, a wide smile lighting up her face.
“I brought your mail,” she tells me as she pulls a giant stack from her oversized bag. “I figured you wouldn’t want to wait much longer for the news.”
Before I can ask what mail I have, I see them all. Ten envelopes, eight of them large packets that signal acceptance letters. “Eight.”
“Yep. Eight medical schools want you, baby sis.”
My dreams, my future stares back at me from Coop’s kitchen table, and I’m not excited. I don’t feel the rush of adrenaline at the knowledge that my dreams are coming true.
In fact, I’m scared. Scared to go back to school. Scared to face the outside alone. Scared to be anywhere Coop is not.
I’m not ready for this or anything.
“I can’t go, Kenna. Not now. I’m not the same. I’m not me, and I’m not sure when I’ll get me back.”
“I know, but they want you. That means they’ll wait for you.”
“I hope so.” I’m not ready to let go of my dream of becoming a psychiatrist, but I’m not ready to start a grueling medical school schedule either. If I graduate.