Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 155903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 780(@200wpm)___ 624(@250wpm)___ 520(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 155903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 780(@200wpm)___ 624(@250wpm)___ 520(@300wpm)
“Stop,” he said firmly. “First of all, you do not make terrible decisions. Everybody makes mistakes. But sometimes fate works in ways to get you to where you’re meant to be. And you’re meant to be with me.”
She’d never thought that Reuben would talk about fate. It seemed too wishy-washy for him. He liked his facts and figures.
But she understood what he was saying. Had she not hit rock bottom and lost everything, she’d never have come here.
Never would have met him.
“You need to have more faith in yourself.”
She snorted. The one thing she no longer had was faith in herself. And the irony of her name wasn’t lost on her.
“Why did you want to come back here tonight? Was it because you weren’t ready to live with me? Or because you didn’t want to leave your friend?”
“A bit of both, I think. Mostly about Cammie. I think, deep down, I felt like she wasn’t safe.”
“I don’t like that you were in danger. I don’t like that he was obviously making you feel uncomfortable and that you never told me.” There was a stern note in his voice. “But you didn’t know this was going to happen. You cannot take other people’s faults and actions on as your own. You didn’t cause him to snap and slap your friend. Or to put his hands on your neck.” He shuddered.
She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’m okay, Daddy.”
“I’d rather you were amazing than okay, but we’ll get you there.” He gathered a deep breath as though he didn’t want to say what he was about to. “I know I’m not . . . easy.”
She hid a grin. Easy? Nope. That wasn’t a word that anyone would ever use to describe Reuben Jones.
A hurricane, yet he was the calm in the storm.
Icy control, yet with enough fire to set the world aflame.
A bulldozer and a soft place to land.
Reuben was a man of contradictions.
“I’m not sure I want to know what’s going on in your head,” he grumbled.
“You probably don’t.”
“I need you to listen to me. I know I’m not easy. I know I like control. I’m bossy and probably overwhelming.”
“It’s good you know these things about yourself,” she told him solemnly.
“Brat,” he grumbled.
But she could tell he wasn’t upset. It was his fault she was sassy.
“What I’m saying is that I like to make the decisions. But I will try to curb that need for you.”
Confusion filled her. “I don’t understand.”
“I don’t like that you think you are incapable of making good decisions. That you take every negative thing as your own failing. We need to build up your self-confidence in your decisions. I do not want you beating yourself up all the time.”
Oh. Now she understood.
“I don’t want you to think that I don’t believe in you.”
Oh. My. God.
That right there was the best thing anyone had ever said to her. Gulping back a sob, she leaned forward and rested her face against his chest.
He wrapped one hand around the back of her head. “Baby, that wasn’t meant to make you cry.”
“Happy tears.”
He scoffed. “Happy tears? Such bullshit.”
“Daddy!”
“What? They are. How is a man meant to know what is going on when there are happy tears, sad tears, angry tears, and tears from pain. It’s confusing.”
“Sorry, Daddy. I forgot you were just a simple fellow who struggles to understand the nuances of tears.”
“I think I’ve unleashed a sassy brat.”
Faith tried to calm herself as she thought about what she needed to say. Leaning back, she looked up at him. The light shining out the front windows meant she could see him pretty clearly. “I do have problems trusting my decisions ever since everything went bad with the business. But I . . . that doesn’t mean I don’t like when you take charge. I like that you make the smaller decisions. It makes me feel cared for. Seen. I don’t know if that is silly . . .”
“It can’t be silly if it’s what you need. Understand? I will never ignore your needs. But sometimes I might not know you need it if you don’t tell me.”
She gasped in fake-shock. “So you’re saying you want to communicate? But I thought you could read minds.”
“Brat,” he grumbled. “Yes, I’m saying that I’ll try to communicate better if you do as well. I’m good at reading people. However, you’re good at locking things down that you don’t want people to see. How many times have you stopped yourself from telling me to take a flying leap at work?”
“Too many to count,” she replied dryly.
“If you like having me take over, then I am more than happy to do that. But I won’t do it if it’s affecting your mental health. If it’s making you think I don’t believe in you or your ability to make decisions. I don’t want control because I think you’re incompetent. You’re strong and smart and beautiful. I want you to always feel that way. Never belittled or ignored or less. Hear me? Never, ever, less.”