Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 134212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 671(@200wpm)___ 537(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 671(@200wpm)___ 537(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
“My mother took her own life.”
My eyes go round. “Shit, I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. I came to terms with it long ago.” Her shrug is casual and entirely inappropriate given the subject. “My father met another woman and moved to Canada.”
“Mine moved away too,” I muse, wondering if Lo has anyone at all. Anyone apart from me. “What about siblings?”
She shakes her head into my arm. “None.”
“Friends?”
“I lost touch with them long ago. Life just got too . . .” She thinks before finishing. “Busy.”
I hold my tongue. Busy? Or did they give up trying to pull her out of an unhealthy relationship? Did they get too upset watching Lo putting herself through that shit? That thought leads to another: will I ever try to remove her from an unhealthy relationship? And when she doesn’t leave, will I walk away? Because I know I won’t be able to sit back for much longer and see Lo like this. We’re getting closer, easier, and with each day that passes, I care more about Lo and what the hell is going on in her life. “That’s too bad,” I say quietly. “Do I count?”
“As a friend?” she asks, peeking up at me.
“Yes.” I look forward, making a silent promise to myself, and to Lo, that I will never give up on her, no matter what.
“Is it sad that you’re my best friend?” Her eyes gaze into mine, and I see with perfect clarity how much I mean to her as a friend. I’m someone she knows she can call on when she needs to. It both paralyses me with helplessness and fills my cracking heart with happiness.
“No. It just means you’re fussy and have great taste.”
She laughs, nudging me as we walk. “You’re cute, Luke Williamson.”
“So are you, Lo Harper.” I slow to a stop, leaving Lo looking up at me in question.
“Okay?”
“Yes.” I turn into her and shove my hand into my pocket, pulling out my keys. She looks down at my hands as I separate my house keys from my car key. I pause when they’re detached, looking down at my palm where they lay. I haven’t given what I’m about to do much thought. Hardly any, in fact, but it just feels right for me to do it. I hold them out to her, and Lo steps back, her smooth forehead developing a few lines. “I want you to have these,” I say, scanning her face. She’s staring at me, quiet, maybe stunned. “Just in case you ever need somewhere to go.” I cannot deal with Lo feeling as though there are no options if things are too much for her. The thought of her not having somewhere to escape to, a safe haven, makes my chest hurt. She trusts me, that’s been proven each time she’s reached out to me. She called me cute. And even though I don’t know anything about her deeper, inner battles, the rest she wears on her sleeve. On her fucking beautiful face. I’ve never done anything like this before. I’ve only ever given my keys to my sister and my daughter, two women I love bone deep. And yet . . . here I am. Offering. Lo deserves more. More joy. More hope. More happiness. And if this gesture can provide that in some little way, I have to give it to her. Because she already has me.
Lo remains still and silent, looking at me in wonder. I’ve run out of words now, not knowing what else to say to her, so I slowly push my hand forward, hoping she’ll accept. Selfishly, it’ll ease me as much as I hope it eases her. Her eyes drop to my keys, and I see the internal battle she’s struggling through. A few silent seconds pass, and I decide to make the decision for her. Reaching for her pocket, I slip the keys inside and take her hands, placing them back on my arm and getting us walking again. I can feel her gazing up at me, but I keep my focus forward, not prepared to make a huge deal of it. Because it isn’t. “Let that be that,” I say quietly, tugging Steve back when he wanders into a flower bed. Again. “Now, tell me how Boris has been.”
She chuckles and replaces her head back on my arm, squeezing it in silent thanks. We continue to wander with no rush, silence falling between our chats, but each quiet time is comfortable, and it seems that neither of us wishes to fill it unnecessarily. It’s cathartic. Peaceful.
When we reach the end of her street, I feel my heart sinking a little with each step I take, until she finally pulls us to a stop, not wanting to get any closer to her house. There’s a brief moment of silence before she steps into my chest and curls an arm around my waist, resting the side of her face under my chin. I breathe in and tip my head back until I’m staring at the black sky, my spare arm slipping around her neck and holding her close. “You okay?” I ask, clenching my eyes shut. Fucking hell, Luke. What’s happening?