Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71303 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71303 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
“Oh… I…” I stammered, my thoughts spinning. He’d had to condition himself, which made sense. Did that include the coffee and muffin I brought him? What about the days I missed?
He gripped my arm, which was when I realized I’d been pacing. I stopped to stare at him—this was the first time we had actually made contact, other than our fingertips brushing when passing him the coffee.
“Don’t do that,” he said softly.
I could feel the knots in his fingers where the knuckles were gripping me. “Don’t do what?”
“I can see the wheels turning in your head. I don’t want any pity.” He dropped his hand and stepped back. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”
“No, wait,” I pleaded. “I was only thinking about how you’d set up a system for yourself and how that takes a lot of finagling.”
“It’s the only way to survive.”
I swallowed thickly. “I understand now. Excuse my ignorance.”
“I don’t think you’re ignorant. It’s not something anyone would consider unless they’d been through it.”
I nodded, then motioned to the couch. “Please have a seat, and at least let me get you something to drink.”
“Water would be awesome,” he said as he chose the end cushion on the couch. “Thanks.”
In the kitchen, I poured us water from the tap. When I turned toward the room, Oscar had joined him.
“Well, aren’t you comfy,” I teased. “If you don’t want him up there, just—”
“No, I like it, if you’re okay with it.”
“Definitely.” I handed him the glass, then sat down with Oscar between us. He laid his chin on Lachlan’s thigh and got settled. Traitor. “My ex didn’t like Oscar on the furniture or in bed.”
“That’s the real reason you kicked him to the curb,” he said with a laugh.
I grinned. “Probably. I believe pets are part of your family. They bring comfort and love you unconditionally. They should at least be able to sleep on your furniture.”
“I like that,” he said as his fingers burrowed in Oscar’s fur. I thought of how he had gripped my arm. I’d admit I liked the feel of it. Or maybe I was just lonely and a bit lost. My depression messed with my head and told me plenty of lies.
“My ex hated animals,” he said suddenly. “That should’ve been my first red flag.” He took a hearty sip of water, as if regretting saying that out loud.
“I think we all have plenty of regrets.”
He glanced at me, his jaw twitching. “Have you ever had someone make you feel worthless?”
My stomach bottomed out, and I looked away. “I don’t need a person to make me feel like that. My depression does that all on its own. That was why I was napping. Because I struggle through some days when I’m in the middle of an episode.”
My chest was pounding, and maybe it was so loud in my ears I had tuned him out because there was no response.
His fingers gripped my arm again, and my gaze flashed to him. “I felt depressed my first few days on the street. Probably more like heartbroken and in shock. But that was situational. It sounds like yours is chronic. I’m sorry to hear you—”
“Oh no you don’t! No pitying me now. I don’t like it either.”
He chuffed out a laugh, and damn, his entire face came alive with color. The ruddy cheeks and piercing blue eyes made him all the more attractive.
“Guess now we’re even,” I said around a parched throat. I reached for my water glass again.
“Guess so,” he mused.
When we fell into silence, I wasn’t sure what to say or do. “Want to watch TV?”
He winced. “Feels like it’s been so long. I wouldn’t even know what’s current.”
“There are some good shows, but I have trouble keeping up with multiple seasons.” I motioned toward my bookshelf. “I’d rather read.”
He stiffened. “Shit, I forgot!”
I was confused until he pulled his leg from under Oscar’s chin, gingerly stood, then strode to his rolling cart near the door. He rummaged through it until he located the book, and I could see how soggy it was.
He guiltily glanced in my direction as he spun the bracelets on his wrist, something I noticed he did when distressed or deep in thought. “Maybe it’ll dry out?”
“Maybe. But it’s okay if it doesn’t.”
He looked flustered as he forked his fingers through his hair. “I’d like to try and save it.”
“Okay,” I replied, realizing how serious he sounded. This was important to him, and I needed to respect that. “Let’s put it near the vent and see what happens overnight.”
He nodded and followed me to the corner of the room. “Good idea.”
He opened the book to flatten the spine, then cautiously laid it near where the air was blowing.
There was a moment of tense silence before I said, “So, um, let me show you where you’ll sleep.”