Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 115997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Fine, maybe there was one thing in this world more beautiful than the moon.
The breeze fluttered the silk of my spaghetti-strapped, thigh-high nightgown, and I turned away from Nate to face the water again. It was the middle of the night, and our deck was sheltered from any prying eyes—if there was even anyone awake in the bungalows beside us—but though Nate had no problem walking around gorgeously, mouthwateringly naked, I wasn’t quite that confident.
I also couldn’t sleep. He’d worn my body out into a blissful state of euphoric exhaustion, but my mind had spun long after his eyes had drifted shut.
We only had two days left.
Two days, and then we’d head back to the States. Back to reality. Back to a life where we never knew where we stood with each other, or when we’d see the other again. Back to a life where I pushed away every man who got too close for the simple reason that he wasn’t Nate.
When I’d broken things off with Luke, I hadn’t cried out of heartbreak. I’d cried because I’d spent months with him and only fallen into like, a like I’d been shamefully willing to toss aside.
Love? That word belonged to one man in my life, and I couldn’t have him. Not really.
I was hopelessly, inexorably in love with Nathaniel, and only Nathaniel.
And he wouldn’t let me in. I was forever kept in his orbit, allowed to glimpse the damage I knew lingered beneath his surface, but condemned to watch helplessly from afar as he collected scars.
Maybe it was because he’d saved me all those years ago. Maybe it was the ease I seemed to feel only around him, the way I could be me, just me, and it was more than enough. Maybe it was the way he’d looked at me at his mom’s funeral, like I was the lone boat in an ocean trying its best to drown him. Or maybe it was the way he erased every logical thought with a single touch.
Whatever it was about him that held my heart, it only existed with Nate.
And we only had two more days.
How was I supposed to sleep even an hour of that away?
I wrapped my arms around my middle and stared up at the moon like it might deliver the answers I needed. Was I supposed to move to North Carolina? Give up the kind of work I wanted to do in order to be with him on the few days of the year he’d actually be home, when that clearly wasn’t what he wanted?
A noise made me turn back toward the bed.
Nate’s body jerked.
I moved toward him, walking soundlessly so I wouldn’t wake him, watching to see if anything was wrong. After about a minute, I sat carefully on my side of the bed, then slowly pulled my legs up so I wouldn’t jostle the bed too much.
He jolted again, letting out a shout that startled me.
He was having a nightmare.
“Nate.” I leaned over to him, gently touching his shoulder. “Nate, wake—”
He moved so fast that my heart stopped.
My back hit the mattress in the same second that Nate appeared above me. His eyes were wide and intense, and his forearm—
It was pressed to my collarbone as his other hand batted for something on the bed.
“Nate!” I cried out as my stomach lurched into my throat.
Horror streaked across his face, and he jumped backward, removing his weight in less than a heartbeat and scrambling for the edge of the bed. “Oh shit.” The blood ran from his face. “Izzy. God. Izzy.”
I moved back against the headboard, my mind trying like hell to catch up to what just happened.
“I’m so sorry.” He lifted his hand like he was going to reach for me, then set it back down. “Did I hurt you?”
“No.” The stricken look on his face broke my heart. “I’m okay,” I promised.
He dropped his head into his hands. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’m fine, Nate. Startled, but fine.” My pulse raced, but it was nothing compared to the way my chest tightened at the misery in his voice. “Nate, look at me.”
He slowly lifted his head, his eyes rising to meet mine.
“You didn’t hurt me.” I shook my head, logic cutting through the shock. “You were having a nightmare, and I startled you. I never should have touched you. I know enough about PTSD to know that, and I just . . . forgot. I’m the one who’s sorry.”
“Don’t you dare apologize to me.” He drew his knees to his chest.
I scooted closer but stopped midway across the bed, giving him space. “You didn’t choke me. You didn’t cut off my airway. You didn’t throw me to the ground. You. Didn’t. Hurt. Me.”
He slid off the bed and pulled on a pair of dry swim trunks. “And I’m not going to.”