Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 91862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
“Oh God…” I gulp.
“That’s right. She got me to safety, and then she went back in to get the comic books. But they were already ablaze, and that’s what…” He shakes his head.
“That’s what burned her,” I say monotonously. “The fire from your comic books.”
He doesn’t respond.
Finally, “Maybe. I don’t know if it was the comic books or not. But she went back in, and she got dragged out by a fireman with third-degree burns on the left side of her body.”
What can I say to him? It’s a horrific story. But he was a kid. Just a kid. And kids have silly ideas about what’s important. Surely he knows that.
Do I go to him? Take him in my arms? Kiss his lips? Embrace him?
“Tell me,” I finally say. “Tell me what you need right now.”
He takes a sip of his bourbon. “No one knows that story,” he says. “Not even Ben or my dad. She told him she went back in to get our baby books.”
“Have you considered that maybe that’s the truth?”
“No. She was in my bedroom when the fireman dragged her out.”
“So your father knows, then.”
“He knows she was in my bedroom. He assumed that’s where my baby book was. It wasn’t. The baby books were in a cedar chest in the living room underneath some quilts.”
“And Ben doesn’t know?”
“He was only three. He had no idea where the baby books were.”
“And you did.”
“Yeah. Sometimes Mom and I would look at them together. I liked looking at my first lock of hair.” He shakes his head. “I haven’t let myself think about this in so long.”
Again, I’m at a loss for what to do. But my hand, seemingly of its own accord, reaches out and touches Braden’s cheek. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not. It’s never been okay, and it never will be.”
Chapter Fifty-Five
“You now know more about me than anyone else,” Braden says to me. “Anyone.”
My shoulders weigh—in a good way—with the knowledge of his statement. “You can trust me, Braden. All of your secrets are safe with me.”
He rakes his fingers through his hair. “I do trust you. More than you know.”
“More than I know?” I lift my eyebrows. “How can—”
He shoots his bourbon down his throat and groans. Then he regards me. Sternly. “This can’t continue.”
My heart plummets. Whatever he’s getting at, it can’t be good. “What?” I ask softly, my voice cracking.
“Reardon found my weakness. I went to him, threatened him, and instead of going after me, he went after you, Skye. My Achilles’ heel.”
I rise to go toward him, but he stops me with a gesture.
I drop my ass back into my chair. “Everyone has an Achilles’ heel, Braden.”
“I don’t.” He pours himself another finger of bourbon. “I can’t.”
No. This isn’t happening. Not after everything we’ve been through to be together. Not after he trusted me with his most guarded secrets.
No, damn it! No!
“Don’t you see?” He slams his glass down on the table. “I can’t keep you safe.”
“But you did keep me safe.”
“Because of circumstance. What if the doorman hadn’t texted me?”
“But he did.”
“Damn it, Skye!” He stands and hurls the glass against the wall.
I cower against the crash, against the tiny clear shards that rain onto the carpet. My heart is at once still yet beating thunderously. I feel… I feel…
I gather my will to say what needs to be said.
“You told me in the cornfield that there was only one master of control between us,” I say, my lips trembling. “You. You, Braden. You’re in control, and you protected me.”
“What if I can’t the next time?”
“Who says there’ll be a next time?”
“I was wrong,” he says. “I didn’t think anything could touch you. Touch us. I didn’t realize…”
“Didn’t realize what?” I urge.
“Even now, it surprises me how much I love you. How much I need you in my life. To be without you will be torture.”
I stand again, wanting—no, needing—to be near him. I tentatively reach forward. “You don’t have to be without me.”
“Don’t you get it?” He rubs furiously at his temple, as if easing a throbbing ache. “I have to let you go. I can’t take the chance—”
I close the distance between us and fall into him, resolving not to shed the tears that threaten. He thinks I’m the strongest woman he knows. Now is the time for me to prove him right.
“I won’t let you go,” I say against his chest. “I won’t. I refuse.”
“Oh, Skye…” He kisses the top of my head.
I ease back and meet his gaze. “We didn’t work this hard to be together just to have it torn away from us. By Beau Reardon? By Peter and Garrett? No way, Braden. I don’t accept this. Not for a fucking minute.”
“You don’t have a choice.” He shakes his head. “Neither of us does.”
“Bullshit.” I pound my fist on his chest. “If it would truly be torture to live without me, why would you subject yourself to that?”