Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 113464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
“You really want me to stay here with you?” I grab one of the protein bars, hoping it will settle my stomach, which is now doing backflips. And not in an exciting kind of way.
“That’s just the way it has to be. Don’t you see? This is where you belong.”
It makes me want to scream how matter-of-fact he can be, even when he’s saying the craziest things. “But don’t you want me to be happy?”
“You would be. If you would let me make you happy.”
“I’ll never be happy unless I have some freedom—you can roll your eyes all you want,” I add when he does just that. “That’s not going to change. And I don’t think you would like it if you found out somebody was forcing Tatum into doing what they wanted.”
“Do not throw my daughter in my face,” he growls.
“I only want you to understand what I’m thinking. Please, let me make some of my own choices. Give me the freedom to come and go. And you’ll just have to trust me.” The words threaten to stick in my throat, but I force them out.
He’s fighting with himself, scowling, his jaw going tight. I have to fight off the impulse to beg and plead. That will not get me anywhere.
“I want you home immediately after work. No excuses.”
“I promise,” I lie. My heart’s hammering, and I’m sure he’ll be able to see my thoughts written on my face, but it doesn’t seem that way. He’s pretty calm and even-tempered. The complete opposite of the way he was earlier. I wish I hadn’t made it so easy for him to get what he wanted, but it’s like I can’t resist him. And that’s why I have to get away for good, because when we’re together, there is no denying how I crave him.
“Fair enough. But stay with me,” he adds as he stretches out, welcoming—demanding—me with his open arms. “You’re sleeping here.”
I’m almost too happy to agree. I did it. I faced off with him, and I came out on top. How many people have been able to say that?
I wish it didn’t feel so good to lie in his strong arms.
I wish it didn’t hurt so much to imagine never doing it again.
I can do this. I’m going to do this.
I only wish I didn’t feel like I have to look over my shoulder the whole time, like Callum’s going to jump out from behind a trash can or something. I can’t trust him not to follow me around. And he expects me to give up almost everything.
I can’t do that. I won’t. Even if it means I can’t be with him.
The way it has all morning, the thought makes me feel sick. Why does he have to be the way he is? There’s a difference between being sexy and commanding and telling me what I can and cannot do. He might have relented for now, but I’m understanding the way he thinks. He’ll find another way to control me.
Now I’m supposed to learn to live without him. I hate him for putting me through this.
But not enough to walk into the building and up to the apartment I plan on leasing. I was just fine getting here and walking up to the front stoop, but this is as far as my feet want to carry me. It’s just a lease. I can do this—no, I need to do this.
But what happens when Callum shows up? Because he will. I didn’t think about that before. He knows where this place is because he basically stalks me. He’ll come looking for me before long.
If he doesn’t tie me up and throw me over his shoulder, he’ll find some way to convince me to come back. And then what? I’m stuck with a lease on an apartment I don’t live in.
Who are you trying to kid?
I hate the know-it-all voice in my head that sounds like Tatum because she’s right. I’m kidding myself. I don’t want to live on my own. I don’t want to sneak away from Callum. The thought of it makes my eyes threaten to well up.
I need him. I wish it wasn’t true, but I can’t change it. I’ve been in love with him for years, and it didn’t matter how many times I told myself how wrong it was to feel that way… how he’d never feel the same… how he didn’t even look at me as an adult.
It was impossible to forget him before. How am I going to do it now that I know I was wrong about the way he saw me?
I’m not. That’s it. I’m never going to forget him. I’m going to be miserable for the rest of my life.
Maybe there’s a way to make things work.
I can’t believe I’m thinking this, but now that the idea has wiggled its way into my brain, there’s no getting rid of it. In fact, I’m relieved. I don’t have to live without him. I didn’t really want to give up and run away.