Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
“You hurt me.” She bit out every word as the accusation it was.
My gut knotted. “I know. I’m really sorry. I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Ouch.
“I’ll earn it.” I ran my thumb over the soft skin of her cheek.
“You’ll earn it?” Sarcasm saturated every word.
“I’ll earn your trust,” I promised. “And honestly, I have to earn my own first. When you said that you were my fix, it struck a chord.”
“Was I? Am I?” She tensed. “I mean, look at what just happened.”
“Maybe,” I admitted, stroking her lip with my thumb. “There’s nothing that compares to what it feels like to touch you.”
Her eyes flared in surprise.
“What? I’ve told you that before.”
She studied me carefully. “You said maybe. You didn’t deny it.”
“Working on that whole emotional availability thing,” I said slowly. “And until I can be sure that you’re not my current drug of choice, I’m not putting either of us in the position to feel that way.”
She glanced pointedly to where our bodies were aligned.
“Right. This is why I’m going to need another few months.”
“To do what?”
“I need to get through the spring...start the summer without the yearly downward spiral. Need to hit my year mark without leaning on you. That way, I know I can do it on my own, and you’ll know you can go slay the management world without stressing out that I’m going to lose it on tour without you. Plus, I kind of ignored the whole wait-a-year-before-starting-a-new-relationship advice, but I wasn’t expecting you—expecting this.”
“So, you’re what? Asking me to wait?”
“Yeah. I guess I am.” It hadn’t been planned, but seeing her again clarified the path. Waiting was the only logical course to take. For both of us.
Her gaze shifted as she made her choice. “What do the numbers on your clock mean? The one on your chest?” She tapped her index finger right above the ink.
The urge to shut down hit hard and fast, but I pushed it aside and focused on her eyes. “Seven twelve. July twelfth. Kaylee’s birthday.”
Her brow furrowed. “You went to rehab on her birthday.”
I nodded. “I tried a few times before, but I never made it through. The day she would have turned eighteen, I signed myself in and I stayed.” She would have been old enough to leave on her own. She wouldn’t have needed me.
Zoe weighed my answer for a few very long, very quiet moments. “So, you need about three months.”
“Yes.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“You’ll think about it?” I didn’t know whether to be frustrated or relieved.
“I said I’ll think about it.” She shrugged, then pushed at my chest. “Your ten minutes are up.”
“Come on, let’s get you back to the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse brigade.” I stuck out my hand, but she didn’t take it.
“They’re not that young,” she muttered, headed for the door.
“Yeah, they are. But you chose well. They might be almost as good as us one day.” I followed after her.
“Cocky bastard.” She shook her head as we walked into the hallway.
“At least you know what you’re getting into.”
“Yeah. That’s part of the problem when it comes to you.” Her voice dropped.
“Three months,” I repeated, devouring the sight of her and memorizing every single detail. “It’ll be over before you know it, and then it’s you and me.”
“What makes you think I’ll wait it out?” She arched an eyebrow as she backed away, but there was a spark in those eyes.
“Because you love me.” I folded my arms over my chest and watched her retreat, battling every instinct in my body to throw her over my shoulder and race back to Colorado.
“Hmm. Is that so?”
“It is, and I love you.” I didn’t give a shit who heard us in the hallway. “Three months, Shannon.”
“Yeah, I heard you the first few times. Bye, Nixon.” She pivoted and walked off toward her band, pausing as Quinn said something in her ear. Zoe nodded, then disappeared around the corner.
“How did it go?” Jonas asked as we walked with Quinn toward the stage twenty minutes later.
“Guess we’ll see what happens in the next three months,” I answered, adjusting my guitar strap. I’d passed over the Nixon one she had made for me and chosen the one that read Zoe’s.
“Okay then.” He clapped the back of my shoulder.
“Hey, I have something I need to do in a few days, but I was thinking I might take you up on that invite afterward. Maybe come to Boston for a while? If the offer still stands.”
“It always stands. It will be really good to have you.” He smiled. “Plus, it will give me time to bully you into putting ‘Merciful Fire’ on the album.”
“I’m all for it,” Quinn chimed in. “It’s good.”
“Not a chance in hell.” Zoe hadn’t even heard it yet.