Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 100275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
“If your neighbor’s boyfriend isn’t behind bars, I’m going to end him.”
“He’s in jail.”
“Then why are you hiding?”
“Because”—drawing in a shaky breath, I slowly pull the blanket away from my head—“I look like this.”
Fitz doesn’t flinch. Not a single muscle twitch. “Your freckles hide most of the bruising. And that eye isn’t anything that can’t be dressed up with a pirate’s patch.”
“Stop,” I say with a half laugh and a half sob.
He grins, pulling stray hair away from my face. “You’ve never looked worse, Jaymes.”
Laughter wins, but I still manage a few more tears.
Fitz’s smile wanes. “I’m just so fucking sorry this happened to you.”
“You’re not. Gary and Evette will finally think you’re hotter.”
When his smile returns tenfold, it feeds my soul, filling it until it runs over. “Still, Jaymes. They’ll still think I’m hotter. Not finally.”
If he backed down one inch, it would break me. I need our banter.
“Do Maren and Will know?”
“Yes.”
“Does Will—”
“Will knows you can’t keep your clothes on when you’re around me. He knows you’ve violated me on countless occasions. And for that, he’s threatened to demote me to the shed. Hope you’re proud of yourself.”
Again, he makes me laugh—more of what I need. Yet, it’s more than that. I think it’s what he needs. Fitz doesn’t know how to deal with emotions.
I lie on my side. “Can I have your arms around me?”
After removing his shoes, he spoons my back to his chest and kisses my head. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” he whispers.
No sarcasm.
No banter.
Nothing made up.
Just his truth in its rawest form.
“I’m so glad you’re here, but I know this isn’t what you want.”
“A baseball bat to your face? No. It’s not what I want.”
“I mean this feeling like you have to be here for me. You don’t. I don’t expect Maren or Will to come running if something happens to me. Hell, I feel bad that Melissa jumped on a plane to come see me, and we’ve been friends forever.”
“So, who would be here if it weren’t Melissa or me? Maren or Will?”
“I can walk. In a few days, I’ll be fine driving. It could have been so much worse. Someone from work would have helped out.”
“Okay. I’ll take off then.” He releases me and stands.
I roll over. Speechless.
He slides his feet into his boots. “Tell Melissa it was nice seeing her.”
I can’t open my mouth, let alone turn a coherent thought into actual words, before he slides his bag over his shoulder and exits my apartment.
My heart shoves a flood of emotion into my throat. Trepidation propels my body out of bed, wincing once standing upright. Panic crawls to the end of my tongue, ready to scream as I open the door.
Fitz is propped against the doorframe, one ankle crossed over the other.
“You’re an awful person,” I mumble.
“Is that your way of apologizing for kicking me out?”
“I didn’t kick you out. You left. And the difference between us is I came after you. When I left—”
Shit.
I can’t say it. The emotions are too raw. Everything about my feelings for this man is too raw. Too much. Too real.
“When you left, I didn’t come after you,” he whispers.
I turn, returning to bed and sitting on the edge. “I think my mom lied to me,” I murmur, keeping my head bowed. “I think one of my patients is my uncle. My mom never wanted to talk about her family. All I knew was they weren’t part of her life, part of my life. But now I think she was embarrassed by her brother’s actions, or maybe she wanted to protect me. I don’t know.” I lift my gaze. “But I’m twenty-five, and I’ve lost my parents. My past feels like a lie. My best friend lives on the other side of the country. And I’ve fallen in love with a man who can never be mine.”
His brow furrows.
“So you’ll have to excuse me if I’m trying really hard not to need anyone. You, of all people, should understand that. However, I’m not like you. I’m not good at it. Because deep down, I do need people in my life who worry about me, who check in on me, who would feel a little empty inside if I died.”
Fitz deflates. “I worry about you.” He takes a step closer. “I’m checking in on you.” He squats in front of me, resting his hands on my legs. “And if you died”—he swallows hard—“it would fucking gut me.”
I don’t know if my head can take much more, but here I am, bleeding tears. Breathless in a choke hold.
“And I can deal with that. I just can’t handle the idea of you grieving me,” he murmurs.
I press my hand to his cheek, and he leans into my touch. “Too late,” I whisper. “Whether you choose to love me or not, whether I’m with you or find someone else who wants my heart, if I’m alive when you leave this earth, I will grieve you. Your smile. Your laughter. Your touch.” I sniffle through my stuffy broken nose with shaky breath. “But I won’t regret anything. This love is worth the pain.”