Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
“Where are you? I’ll come get you so we can talk about this face-to-face.” Roy doesn’t address what I said, or at least not head-on. Though I suspect if I were saying this to him directly, I would give in to him. I have so many times before.
Next to me, Ben shakes his head, his eyes stone and his jaw tight like he knows Roy only wants to talk to me “face-to-face” so he can use his presence to convince me to change my mind before I can process more.
I appreciate his strong advice, but I don’t need it. I already know that, too, and can feel it down to my bones that I’ve let Roy convince me of a lot of things over the years.
“No. I don’t want to see you,” I tell him after taking a deep breath. “But you deserve to know what happened yesterday. I didn’t mean to hurt you, but I know I did. I still am. And I’m sorry.”
I drop the phone in my lap, needing my hands to scrub at the tears streaming down my face in rivers. I sniffle loudly, snot threatening to fall too.
“Hope? Hope?”
I feel Ben take the phone, and through my wet lashes, I see him end the call and set it on the table—surprisingly gently, as if by respecting my phone, he’s respecting me. He’s barely sat back in his seat when I throw myself into his arms, my face pressed to his chest as I fall apart. Again.
He must regret the day that dart landed on Maple Creek because all it’s brought him is drama-filled tears from a hot mess of a girl who doesn’t know herself well enough to have a clue what her next step should be.
“Damn, girl.”
It’s all he says as he rocks me tenderly, running a comforting hand over my hair and down my back. I don’t know how long we stay like that, with him soothing me as my broken heart settles in pieces in my chest.
Eventually, I’m all cried out but I’m too weak to move, and Ben seems to know that, keeping me tucked in against him, supporting me as I sniffle. I feel melted into him, like we’ve melded through our clothes into one blobby, boneless jumble of a being.
“Sorry,” I tell him, forgetting that I’m not supposed to say that.
He chuckles lowly, seeming to read my mind, his chest vibrating beneath my cheek. “Probably warranted this time since you got snot on my shirt.”
“Oh!” I try to pull away, but he keeps a tight hold on me with his long, strong arms, not letting me move.
“It’s fine, Hope. Just breathe.”
I try to, I swear. But me and oxygen aren’t friends right now, and I’m hiccuping as I try to get air into my lungs. This must be what drowning feels like. I’m suffocating in my panic.
“Tell me three things you hear.”
“What?” I ask, confused by the simple demand.
“Three things you hear. It’s a trick I use when I get nervous,” he shares.
I can’t imagine him ever being nervous. He’s taken everything in stride, steady and sure no matter what I keep throwing at him or getting him involved in.
“Um, the kids outside,” I say, listening carefully. “The refrigerator. And . . . your heartbeat.” That last one is the loudest thing I hear but the hardest to say, feeling more intimate than it should be.
“Good,” he praises me. “Two things you smell.”
“French fries. Sandalwood.”
“Yes. Lunch and my cologne,” he says. “One thing you see. Focus on one thing.”
I have to pry my eyes open because they’re gritty and puffy from all the tears. I can’t lift my head to look at Ben, feeling gross and embarrassed from having another meltdown. “Black cotton.” It’s all I can see when my eyes are locked on his chest, which is rising and falling slowly. I want to press my cheek back there again, taking comfort in the thrum of his heartbeat and ignoring the bonfire I just lit on my life by calling Roy.
But it needed to happen. He deserves that. I do too.
“Good girl.” He lifts my chin with his finger, forcing my eyes up to his. I expect to see pity there, sorrow for the lost girl who doesn’t know what she wants or who she is, but what I find is approval. “You are so fucking strong. That was hard as hell, yet you did it. You should be proud of yourself.”
Stunned, I don’t know what to say. But I think the warm spot blooming in my chest might be a bit of pride. I won’t discuss the heat that’s lower in my belly from Ben calling me a good girl and looking at me like that, because I’m not one of those girls who jumps from one guy to another, too scared to be alone. Nope, alone is exactly what I want to be.