Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 109608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
His knuckles whiten when his grip tightens around the steering wheel. He glances at me. “That wasn’t my intention. Was I too rough?”
“No, you weren’t, but you had something going on in your head, and instead of talking to me, you got your message across another way. I know you would never hurt me. It just worried me a little because I want to be able to communicate.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I don’t need an apology. That’s not why I’m bringing it up. I need to know you’re okay.”
His gaze remains focused dead ahead, and that silence I’ve been anxiously filling returns with a vengeance. But then he takes a breath and says, “No one asks me that.”
“I know. You’re used to isolating, and here I came along and invaded your space. If I’ve upset you—”
“No,” he starts, reaching over and rubbing the top of my knee. When his eyes return to the road, he says, “The truth is, I was worried about you. Logically, I shouldn’t have been. You were with Lark. Safe—”
“But we were later than we expected, and that caused you to worry. Am I correct? I was having such a good time with her that I lost track of time. But I should have sent you a text to let you know we decided to go to a few more stores.” I rest my hand on his leg.
His hand covers mine—large, warm, comforting. “You don’t have to check in with me.”
“I know I don’t, but it’s important for you to know I’m safe. I’m sorry for taking so long to realize how this affected you as well.”
“Don’t apologize for having fun, Tues. That’s not what I want, and it’s not what I’m asking of you. I need to manage the reality that not every moment of your life will include me . . . and it shouldn’t.” Giving my hand a squeeze, he says, “I’m sorry if you felt anything other than pleasure when we’re together, especially in bed. That will never be my intention.”
“I know, babe. That’s not why I brought it up. I just wanted to make sure that you’re doing okay.”
A slow grin spreads on his face. “I am. Thank you for asking.”
I feel so much better, and I hope he does, too. I just feel it in my core that relationships should have open communication built on a foundation of honesty. I’m glad to have that with him.
“Babe?”
I look at his quirked brow and start laughing again. Shrugging, I say, “It just felt right to call you that.”
“I like it.”
I’m not sure when I dozed off, but Loch rocks me gently awake. “Hey there.”
It takes me a few seconds to get my bearings. Loch. Escalade. Beacon. “We’re here?”
“Shortly. My parents live in Beacon Pointe, just outside of town. I thought you might want to see the downtown area.”
I sit straighter, reaching for my water bottle. “This is it?” I take a few sips because I’m feeling dehydrated.
“This is Beacon. It’s about as small as they come, but like the rest of us, it’s starting to grow up.” He points toward a grouping of buildings up on a hill. “The university has brought in a lot of new businesses over the years along with a few high-rises. But the high-rises there don’t extend much above a low-rise in Manhattan.”
“It’s picturesque, like from a movie.”
“It’s actually been used in a few movies.”
Taking the main road through town, we keep going until fences that extend for miles start lining the landscape. When Loch slows down, he pulls up to a gate and stops to punch in a code. The large iron gates swing open, and he pulls through the entrance to the property.
I sit up, taking notice. “This is your parents’ property?”
Reaching over, he takes my hand, our fingers entwining. Is he preparing me, comforting me, or I don’t know, but the house is huge. Beautiful in its classic architecture with a white exterior and green shutters.
“This is where I grew up.”
“Wow.” I’m not sure what else to say since my jaw drops on my lap.
He parks on the side. I’m quick to swipe on some lipstick before we hop out. Instead of taking me to the front door, he grabs my hand again and leads me to the back. “Don’t be nervous.”
“Easy for you to say.”
Chuckling lightly, he brings our joined hands to his mouth and kisses the back of mine. “I get it, but really, they’re going to love you. Not only because of how amazing you are but also because I do.”
He’s so free with expressing his love to me that my anxiety begins to wane. Opening the door, he says, “We’re here.” I step into the kitchen with him behind me and stop in the middle of a bustling family.
They stop, too, and stare.
His mom takes off her apron and tosses it on the island as she comes toward us. “Loch,” she says, seeming to break the ice for the others who follow her lead. Embracing him, she says, “Welcome home, love.”