Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81423 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81423 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
His house was bigger than mine and definitely newer. I found myself wondering if Law had done work on it himself or if he’d purchased it this way. It was clear there was less land. It reminded me of what he’d said about buying his house and how he’d wanted it all, making my thoughts spin with what he wanted to do with it.
I knocked softly on the door, and immediately a deep bark came from inside. The door pulled open less than a minute later, and there he was, wearing jeans and no shirt, and fuck, did he look good. I wasn’t in bad shape or anything. I’d always been a bit on the skinny side, but Law was…well, Law obviously worked out. He had before, but the cut of his abdominal muscles was even more defined and his chest was smooth, unlike the light dusting of hair on mine. I swallowed, remembering what his skin had felt like against mine and the vibration of his laugh running through his body to me.
“Know what I’ve decided?” I asked, falling back on old habits.
Law sighed as if he knew what I was doing.
“I think I want a job cleaning mirrors. I could really see myself doing it.”
He didn’t smile. He used to always smile when I told him my corny jokes. “Law, I…” A nose pushing into my crotch snapped me out of it. I glanced down to see a huge…fucking horse dog or something. He seemed to be some type of mastiff, and I was pretty sure he could eat me alive if he wanted to.
Then his long tongue began lapping at my hand, and Law cursed. “Such a fucking traitor, Bear.” He stepped away and nodded toward the inside of the house. “Guess you better come in. I figured you would have bailed by now.”
I flinched at his words, knowing I deserved it. Yes, he had been the one to walk away, but it had only been because I forced his hand. “As you can see, I didn’t.”
I took in my surroundings, walking around and exploring. The space…well, shit, it couldn’t be more Law. Open concept—the living room, dining room, and kitchen all this large space. There were wooden pillars throughout the area, knotty and rustic. And it was all dark colors—browns, blacks, hunter greens—with large, plush, chocolate-colored furniture. The photography on the walls was all random—an old truck and a lake, a sunset and an open field—but it felt full of heart, if that made sense.
Bear ignored me, walking over and climbing onto the couch, out like a light the second he lay down.
“This place…it’s you,” I said with my back to him. It was full of so much stuff, of life and comfort, obviously more than mine was, but even if I had lived there for years, I wasn’t sure it would look like this.
“Makes sense, considering I live here.” He had a sharp edge to his voice, anger or resentment, that had only ever been directed at me when he’d been struggling with the secret part of our relationship.
“Can I sit?” There had never been a time where things were this stilted between us, not even the first night we met, when we didn’t know each other.
“Yeah, sure, might as well since you’re here. You want a drink?”
“No, thanks. I’m good.”
I sat on the chair that matched the couch. There was a shirt on the coffee table, and Law tugged it on before joining Bear.
I wrung my hands, trying to sort through my thoughts, to pick the right place to start, and find a way to speak when I’d never been real good at doing that. “I lost my music,” was what I settled on, and by the set of his cut jawline, I could tell it was the wrong thing.
“And you came to my hometown to get it back? That doesn’t make sense, but I can’t say I’m surprised this is about your music.”
“It’s not only about that. I haven’t been the same for six fucking years, Law, so don’t trivialize what we had and pretend I never cared about anything other than music.”
“Well, how in the hell would I know you haven’t been the same when you never contacted me? Not. Once.” He raised his voice on the last two words. “And I know you cared about me; you just cared about music more. Maybe it makes me an asshole for resenting that. Maybe I should have been more understanding, but I’m not, and I wasn’t.”
I sighed, feeling weighed down by the tension, the years of pain and anger between us.
He added, “And I don’t know how you could have lost it. It wasn’t that long ago that you came out with a new album. You just finished a tour.”
The album hadn’t been mine. Not really. I hadn’t loved it, hadn’t bled my heart into it. I’d done what my manager and label pushed me into. “Yeah, but I’ve lost the passion behind it. The love of it. Music doesn’t feel right anymore. It doesn’t feel like it’s mine, when other than you, it’s the only thing that has ever been mine. I came here to get it back. So in some ways, that part is true, but I chose Havenwood because of you. Come on, you have to know that.”