Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 121696 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121696 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
She said nothing as he pulled her T-shirt over her head and helped her fit the arms. Item for item, he dressed her before tending to himself. When he’d tied her shoelaces, he took her hand, led her back to the bike, and drove her home.
He didn’t cut the engine or offer her a hand when she got off the back. He took off without looking back, feeling her gaze on him until he turned the corner. Not a word had been said between the beach and her apartment. The last words she’d said to him was that she couldn’t trust him. It was better like that. If he’d ever be foolish enough again to hope, those words would remind him why it would be a mistake.
He dropped off Jerry’s bike and took a taxi to the airport.
It was time to move on, time to set her free.
Chapter 17
Sean’s dad stood on the terrace in front of the double story stone building in which Sean had grown up, his hands shoved in his pockets, when Sean arrived from the airport. The sheepdogs, Ben and Oscar, sat next to him on the paving. From the way Alan frowned as Sean paid the driver and lifted his bag from the back, he’d swear his old man wasn’t happy to see him.
He paused on the step. “What’s wrong?”
“You’re back.”
Sean gave him a strained smile. “I’m not a ghost, so, yeah, I guess I’m back.”
Ben barked once and wagged his tail.
Alan studied his face. “What are you going to do now?”
“Have a shower and something to eat.”
“I mean with your life.”
He glanced over Alan’s shoulder at the B&B with the pub out front. “I could run the pub, grow a few vegetables in the back, get another dog—”
Ben barked twice. His tail stopped wagging.
“Productive life it would be,” Alan said. “I can just picture it.”
Sean dropped his bag to the ground. “I thought you’d be happy.”
“Sounds like a waste of a life.”
“Waste? You did it. Still doing it. I don’t think your life is a waste.”
“I’m not a geomancist.”
He raised his arms. “What would you like me to do, Dad?”
“Anything but mix shooters in the pub. It’s not that kind of pub anyway. How long do you think you’ll be happy pouring ale and draft? You carry Madelein’s and Armelle’s gifts inside of you. You have three times the power of any other known geomancist, for Pete’s sake!”
“What do you want me to do?” he asked again.
“What you’re meant to do.”
Frustration and anger pushed up inside him. “And what’s that?”
“If I need to tell you, then you’re more daft than I thought.”
“I’m here now.” He clenched his teeth. “Deal with it.”
He made to walk past Alan, but his old man held him back. “Every time there’s a problem, you run. That’s what you’re doing here. You’re running.”
Sean stared at his dad. “You’re the one who always says a man has to know when to give up the fight.”
“I said you have to pick your fights. Anyway, there’s a difference between running before the battle is over and accepting when it’s lost.”
“I’m not running. It’s over.”
“What happened with the lass? I thought you said her grandmother died.”
“She did.”
“Then why are you here, instead of there, supporting her?”
“Because I give her nightmares, and she can’t trust me.”
“Do you love her?”
“Of course, I do,” he exclaimed. He should never have told his dad about Asia. Now he wouldn’t hear the end of it.
“Did you tell her?”
“Twice.”
Alan narrowed his eyes. “How?”
Sean scoffed. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Everything.”
He blew out a sigh. “That bastard who kept her pointed a gun at us and asked me if I loved her. She heard me then, loud and clear.”
Alan snorted. “Anyone would say anything with a gun against his head.”
He glared at his father. Unbelievable. He sounded just like Asia.
“The second?” Alan asked.
“When she said I only told Juan I loved her because he threatened my life. I told her again then.”
Alan shook his head. “You’re an idiot.”
Sean cocked a shoulder. “What?”
“If you had a mother, she would’ve taught you right. That’s not the way to tell a woman you love her.”
“I showed her in plenty of ways. I took care of her. I bought her things. I gave her the bar.”
“Son, a woman wants to hear it. Not with a gun pointed at your head and not when she has to wrestle the words from you, but when you hold her in your arms and look her in the eyes. That’s when you tell her the truth.”
“Let it go, will you? I said it’s over.”
“Fine.” Alan turned toward the house, Oscar and Ben on his heels. “I never thought you’d be such a loser.”
For the love of the gods of the arts. He didn’t need this. Not now. Picking up his bag, he carried it to his room.