Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 85399 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85399 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
The corner of his lip twitches.
“Do you care that I sleep in your shirts?” I ask.
“Not at all. I like it, actually.”
I tuck my chin against my chest to hide my grin.
“How is Story Books going?” he asks, slowing his pace even more.
My grin grows wider, and I give up. I look at him, my heart turning over like an hourglass. Only this time, it’s slowly filling instead of consistently running out.
“It’s going really well,” I say, stepping over a fallen tree. “I have work booked through the end of the year already, and I’ve probably turned away three times as many projects as I’ve taken on.”
He nods. “Wow.”
“Yeah. It’s wild, really. To think that Maddie’s silly videos made this all happen for me is mind blowing.”
“She didn’t make that happen for you, Lo. You made it happen.”
The bridge of my nose burns like it does when I stumble upon a video about someone being nice to someone else or a special reunion between a mother and her child. Or a husband and wife.
“I’m really happy for you,” he says softly. “And I have so much respect for you.”
My throat constricts, and my eyes blur.
“I started the shop, and it’s all I had to do, you know,” he says. “I could pour twenty-four hours a day there if I needed to. Then I could go home, and my kids were healthy and happy because you were there taking care of everything else.” He chuckles. “But you manage to do everything else and start a business that will wind up being more profitable than mine.”
Using the edge of my shirt, I dab my eyes.
The flood of emotions pouring into my heart is more than I can weather. Hearing my husband tell me he respects me, and that he recognizes what I’m doing, is everything. It’s more than everything. It begins to fill a hole in my soul that was gaping a lot more than I realized.
“I’m proud of you, Lauren. I can’t wait to watch you kick ass.”
“Damn you, Jack,” I say, laughing through my tears.
“What?” He holds a tree branch back until I pass. “Why ‘damn me’?”
“Because it’s easier when you’re a dick, and I can just be mad at you.”
“Oh, so now you’re mad because I’m not a dick? I’m never going to be able to win with you, am I?” he asks, smiling. “You’re impossible.”
“I’m—shit!”
The toe of my flip-flop gets tangled in the root of a tree sticking up from the dirt. The rubber bends enough to trip me. I launch forward, spiraling through the air, until I land on my hands and knees in the hard, rocky dirt.
“What the hell?” Jack kneels down beside me, helping me turn over onto my butt. “Are you okay?”
I whine, reaching for my ankle. A shot of pain blasts up my calf, and I can feel my foot starting to swell.
Jack presses the side of my foot. I jerk it back and yelp.
“Does that hurt?” he asks.
“No. It feels great.” I pull it farther away from him. “Don’t touch it.”
“How will I know if it’s broken if I don’t touch it?”
“What are you, a doctor now?”
He laughs, shaking his head.
“This freaking hurts,” I say, wincing as a zip of fire makes its way through my foot. “Ouch!”
“What do you want to do?”
I close my eyes and fake cry.
“That’s not going to help,” he says.
I look at him. “You asked what I want to do. In lieu of better solutions, crying is my choice.”
He rolls his eyes and offers me his hand. I take it and let him help me to my feet. He finds my flip-flops and slides them on for me.
“Can you stand on it?” he asks.
I put it down gently. My foot throbs, but the pain isn’t as intense as I feared.
“Can you walk?” he asks.
I take a step forward. It’s more of a hobble than a walk, but it’s forward progress.
“Yeah,” I say, sucking in a breath as a bolt of heat knocks me off-balance. “I can make it.” I take a few more half steps while Jack watches, unamused.
“It will take you all night to get back,” he says.
I stop in the middle of the path. “What choice do I have? Want me to crawl? That’d be great for my knees.”
He smirks. “If you want to do something on your knees, I can give you a better alternative.”
My stomach tightens at the heat in his eyes.
He holds my gaze for a long moment before walking in front of me. “Climb on.”
“What?”
“Climb on my back. I’ll carry you to the cabin.”
I laugh. “You’re not giving me a piggyback ride for a mile.”
He sighs. “What do you want to do? Hobble?”
“I’ll walk. Slowly,” I say, thinking it through. “But I can walk.”
“Look, you have two choices. One, you can climb on my back. Two, I’ll pick you up and throw you over my shoulder.”