Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 138965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
‘What if you could?’ he asks, throwing me for a hoop. ‘What if you could see her?’
I shake my head. I’ve considered it, of course, but ultimately, the risk is too great. I could never put my sister and her family in that position. I could never risk their safety for my need. I said goodbye years ago. They bought my lies and reassurance that all was well in my life. I became a good liar. The best. I couldn’t allow them to worry. And I couldn’t allow them to find out how weak and damaged I’d become. Jarrad knew how much they meant to me, and I had no doubt in my mind that he would use them against me. Everyone was safer if I was dead. And, painfully, I couldn’t choose whom I was dead to. It was all or nothing. They’ve had time to heal. Time to mourn me. And Mum’s mind isn’t her own anymore. It’s done. ‘You look like you could do with a beer.’
Ryan laughs, digging his fingers into the sockets of his eyes. ‘Or for someone to pinch me and tell me that none of this is real.’
I reach forward and squeeze the skin of his cheek. ‘I can’t tell you none of this is real. But I can tell you I love you.’
He softens before me, holding my hand on his face. ‘You look like you need a cuddle,’ he breathes.
‘Can I have one?’
‘Can she have one?’ he whispers to himself, lifting me from the counter and squeezing me.
I settle into his hold, try to enjoy it as best I can, but I feel like every dirty little secret is stuck to my skin, staining me. Staining him. Staining us. ‘Can I take a shower?’
‘Sure.’ He kisses my forehead and carries me through to his bathroom, holding me to his chest as he flips it on. He starts to remove my dungarees, and some of the uninvited feelings are replaced with feelings I want to feel for ever. I inhale, and he growls brokenly as he rips himself away, and it’s all I can do not to yank him back. ‘Soon,’ he promises, backing away into his bedroom. He slides my phone onto the nightstand before he heads out, and apprehension instantly sinks into every bone.
‘Where are you going?’ I blurt, and he stops at the door. Takes a breather. Then reverses his steps, coming straight back to me and holding my head in his hands, getting so close to my face.
‘I’ll never be far from you, Hannah, I promise you.’ He shakes me gently, as if trying to get that promise as far into my head as it can go. ‘Okay?’ he asks, and I nod as best I can with my head restrained. ‘I just need a moment to process things with a beer in my hammock.’
I blink up at him. He’ll never be far. I wrap my hands around his wrists as he pushes his mouth to mine. And then he’s tearing himself away again. He needs a moment. I should let him have that. Honestly, I should take one myself. It’s been a tidal wave of emotions and truths. Ryan knows everything. My secrets are no longer secrets. And he still wants me.
I stand and stare at the closed door for a while, immobilised by relief, but I eventually talk life into my muscles and strip down. Stepping into the shower, I relish the warm spray as I wash my hair and scrub myself clean. By the time I’m done, my skin is tingling.
I rub myself down with a towel and slip some knickers on from my duffel bag, but instead of dressing in my own clothes, I snag my favourite of Ryan’s shirts from the chair in the corner of his room – the grey check one – and pull it over my head instead of wasting time unfastening the buttons, only to refasten them. His scent wafts up to my nostrils, and I lift the fabric to my nose and inhale. So distinctive. So manly. So Ryan.
Padding out to the kitchen, I peek out the window, seeing him reclined on his hammock, swinging slowly, one leg draped over the side. He’s staring into space, lost in thought, taking sips of his beer every now and then. I need a drink, too. Anything to further calm me.
I look down at my wine glass on its side on the counter where we left it, and reach for the stem, standing it up. I wipe up the pool of wine and go to the fridge, pull out the bottle of wine and pour myself a fresh glass.
I settle back at the window, watching him swinging peacefully, as I take my first sip. I freeze. What the hell?
I frown, the glass held at my lips, my gaze moving to the bottle on the side.