Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
“I’m fine,” I cut in before he can even finish that thought. “We’re fine.”
“Then what’s going on?” he asks again, this time with a growing irritation in his voice, and he takes in the papers on my table. “What’s all this?”
“Bills,” I tell him, then amend to clarify, “paid bills. I’m trying to update my budget.”
“Because?” he prods.
“Because I lost my job today. I didn’t get any flowers because I wasn’t there.”
“Fucking hell,” Lucas mutters as his face morphs again from annoyance to sympathy. “I’m sorry, babe.”
I shrug. “It is what it is. I’ll figure something out.”
“We’ll figure something out,” he says firmly as he pulls me into his arms and my entire body stiffens. Not because I’m offended, but because he’s interfering in what I do best, and that’s taking care of myself. He’s putting smudge marks on the new shiny titanium armor I just put on, and it’s getting ruined.
It shouldn’t be a big deal. I should be grateful for his concern, but when it boils right down to it, it causes my stomach to hurt at the thought of depending on someone for anything. My mom just made it clear today that I have to buck up and be strong.
I once again wiggle free and play it off as if I want a drink of water from the tap. I walk over to the sink, pull a clean glass from my cupboard, and fill it. “Want anything to drink?” I ask with my back turned to him.
“Stephanie,” he says softly, and I dare not turn around now. I can tell by the tone of his voice that his face is going to be filled with empathy and resolve to be my man who will conquer all my troubles.
Swallowing the feeling of panic, I plaster a bright smile on my face and turn to him. “We should definitely go out to dinner and celebrate. You guys kicked ass in Florida.”
Yes, the Cold Fury was on a roll. Weirdly, they lost the first game of the play-offs at home, which was the night Lucas and I got into our first argument. He was not in a good mood that night and I regretted my decision to stay with him. Not that he was an ass to me or anything. He kept his word and didn’t take his frustrations out on me. But he wasn’t fun to be around and all he wanted to do was just go to sleep. I was totally okay with that, but again…I had to be up early, and because we weren’t celebrating, I really wished I’d just stayed at my apartment.
But whatever.
Luckily, the Cold Fury rebounded big time and won the next home game as well as the two against Florida on the road. He just flew back in today and we had plans for him to come over tonight. I just didn’t figure he’d send me flowers at work and tell me to meet him at a fancy restaurant, and I screwed that up by not having my phone with me.
Or perhaps I didn’t have it with me because I’m subconsciously ignoring Lucas. I knew he’d try to call at some point, and by not having my phone within reach to hear it, maybe I’m just trying to sabotage things with him.
“Stephanie,” Lucas says again, softer this time and completely ignoring my statement that we should go out to celebrate his wins. “Tell me where you want my place to be, and I’ll go there. I’m not trying to handle you. Just help if I can.”
I completely deflate.
Every single fear, anxiety, and doubt I have about Lucas and what he is to me just evaporates. It takes up no more space in my world than the air does, and that’s because he just assured me that he’d play by my rules. This man utterly knows me and knows that I have to do things a certain way. Lucas has offered to move into a place where I can designate him to stay, and even though I won’t do that, there is security in knowing that I can and he’ll be okay with it.
Three steps and I’m in his arms, my face pressed against his chest. He hugs me without hesitation and my arms wrap around his waist. I breathe him in deeply, that particular scent that is all Lucas and is perhaps the best smell in the world.
Turning my face, I put my cheek against him and murmur, “I’m sorry. Sorry I didn’t answer the phone and sorry I won’t let you help me. But you get it, right…why I don’t want you to help me.”
“I get it,” he assures as his hand rubs my back. “But I would like to support you, and I’ll just do that by saying I’ll never let you falter. If you stumble, I’ll pick you up, dust you off, and push you on your way.”