Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 43367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 217(@200wpm)___ 173(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 217(@200wpm)___ 173(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
We part ways, and I hurry to my office, sit down, and type out a text message to my father: I know how you are about this weekend, and I respect that you have your way of coping. But I need to make sure you know my opinion on that data you sent me. And yes, I know text message is going to piss you off for this, but I can’t risk you not checking your email. When you start treating people like the enemy, they start acting like the enemy. There are studies on this behavior, and when I get out of my meeting I’m walking into, I’ll send you links. Just be careful. Build them up as allies. Please, Dad, General Lawrence. Just wait to act. And right now, no one with that mark has a connection to the mutation. You might not even be locking up the right people. I have theories I need to test. Just give me a little time.
I wait for a reply, but minutes pass, and nothing follows. Of course, nothing follows. I have no reception down here. I email him the same message. I have to go to my meeting and pray I’ve given him enough pause to at the very least, halt his actions.
Chapter Eighteen
The minute I’m out of the meeting, I head to my desk and check my email, only to find nothing from my father. Discouraged, I locate the case studies I think he needs to read, send them in an email, and then add them to my text message that should send when I reach above ground.
Once I’m above level, walking to my car, I try to call him only to go straight to voicemail and I wonder if he’s underground. I have to pray he’s actually checked his email. I settle into my car and text Creed: Headed home now.
By the time I pull up in my driveway, I find him on my porch, leaning against the wooden post, looking as absolutely scrumptious as he does lethal in jeans and a T-shirt. That’s a word my mother used for her homemade baked bread, but I think Creed has earned the right to be labeled as such, and then some.
I exit my vehicle and almost expect him to appear by my side, but instead, he just stands there, watching me with those lethal black eyes. I’m actually nervous as I close the distance between us, him tracking my every move, but not afraid. I hate how he always expects me to be afraid.
Hurrying up the stairs, I stop in front of him, a tad disappointed to realize his eyes are blue. We’re back there. To him masking his real self from me, but he catches me to him, his hand sliding under my hair, cupping my neck, and he kisses me with so much passion, I’m melting right here, and it has nothing to do with the Nevada heat.
“Where’s your bag?” he asks softly, stroking my hair, and I swear I’m trembling inside. What is it about this man that undoes me this easily?
“Inside. I just need to grab it.”
He gives a nod and helps me up the last step, and when my hand trembles with my key, he catches it and pins me in his stare. “Addie?”
“I don’t know why I’m like this, but it’s not bad. I swear to you. I think you just kind of give me sensory overload, but again, in a good way.” My hand flattens on his chest and his heart thunders underneath it. He is worried about what I’m feeling, about me not really wanting him here. He’s always sure that’s what comes next, which is insane. How would any woman turn this man away?
I rotate to him, press to my toes, and kiss him. “I’m really glad you’re here. I can’t promise not to be a mess today in all kinds of ways. It’s here,” I ball my fist between my breasts, “heavy and wrong because she’s gone, you know?”
He runs his hand down the back of my hair and presses his forehead to mine. “I know. I can feel it.”
And I believe him.
He can. And maybe that’s exactly why I needed him here with me today. I think he understands my pain, because it was once his. Even if he hated his father, losing a parent just feels like losing a part of yourself. Like your world will never be the same. And you can be with ten people and still feel alone. But I don’t with Creed. Somehow today, with him, he hit the right note, nuzzling down into my soul in some strange way, and I’m not as alone. And as wrong as it may feel to him, it’s not. I refuse to believe that to be the case.