Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
I stare at the back of him, the tour dates faded on the worn-out shirt and his hand coming around to rub the back of his neck. He’s avoiding eye contact. Why? What did I do wrong? Or is something wrong in his world? “Laird?”
“Hm?”
This tactic is strong, and I have a feeling it’s worked for him many times before. It won’t with me. “Why won’t you look at me?”
“I’m just in the fridge. What should I pull out for tonight?”
Why am I made to feel like an outsider? I haven’t from the moment I walked into his house, but the chill rolling off him now is enough for me to raise my walls in protection. “Do you need time alone? I can head back to my pl—”
“I don’t need time away from you, Poppy.” He still can’t look at me, though. “I never want that again.”
“What do you mean again? I haven’t gone anywhere. I’m here just like I was before. All yours.”
He shakes his head so slightly, but I see it. Closing the fridge, he finally turns to me. My heart drops as soon as our eyes meet. It’s not sadness that has my giant knight hanging his head down. It’s something else, something I feel ill-equipped to handle.
I go to him willing to fail in hopes of providing him comfort. “What’s wrong?” I wrap my arms around him, pressing myself to him, the desire to hear his heartbeat matching mine becoming the focus. Are we still aligned?
But his arms never warm me, never come around to protect me. I slowly release him and take a step back. My butt hits the island, and I find myself holding the edge of the quartz. I need him to tell me he’s alright, that we’re okay. I need him to give me the love he’s done so easily before. I need him to stop looking at me like I’ll disappear and instead take me in his arms to make sure I won’t.
He doesn’t do that, though.
Laird moves around me and says, “I’m not hungry.”
I’m still staring at the fridge when I hear the bedroom door close. He doesn’t make a scene by slamming it. Somehow it feels worse that he didn’t—like it’s not a heavy day in life, but he just wants to keep me out of it.
Do I barge in and beg him to talk to me?
Do I give him a few minutes to process whatever is weighing on him?
Do I start dinner?
Should I go home tonight and then return to pick my stuff up tomorrow?
Dropping my head back on my shoulders, I close my eyes, hoping to find the answer. “What should I do?”
“Stay.” Laird is at the entrance to the short hallway. The life I’m used to seeing reside in his eyes hasn’t returned, and now the corners have dragged down. I looked down at my bare feet and wiggle my toes. My stance softens, realizing his heart must carry quite the load for things to be so somber. “I know you’re thinking you should leave,” he says. “Please don’t go. I’m asking you to stay, Poppy.”
“I’m not mad at you for walking away.” I finally turn around, using the countertop as support. “I’m concerned. I’m worried about you.”
“I know you are, but I don’t want you to. I want us to move forward, to talk about the future like it’s a possibility.”
“Is it not?” My eyes drifted to the floor as if my heart was too heavy to handle the conversation. Until now. “Do we not have a future together?”
He drags both his hands through his hair, and frustration starts shaping his face. “I’m still dealing with my past.”
“Your past has no bearing on our future. This is a clean slate. For both of us.”
His hands fist as he takes in a deep breath. As he shoots his gaze through the glass, his body carries him to the back door, but he stops before exiting. I remain, not only hating the distance he’s putting between us but myself for failing to comfort him, to convince him that this is enough. “You’re not alone, Laird. Let me be here for you.”
“We had everything. We were going to build a life together,” he says, looking at me over his shoulder. Anger that surged has tidal waved into regret from his tone. “We had everything before the accident, but now . . .”
“Now what?”
“Instead of with you, I have a child with another woman.”
26
Poppy
The words are out of his mouth, but I struggle to comprehend.
Before the accident, we had everything, instead of with you . . . I have a child.
Laird’s a dad? “What do you mean you have a child?”
“I might. I do? I don’t . . .” He bends, his large frame holding him captive to try to find the relief he’s seeking. “I don’t know.” Whispering the same to himself, he drags his hand through his hair and then rests his palms on his legs.