Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 84533 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84533 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
He rubbed his beard on my head like an animal marking me. “No one has ever touched me like this.” No one? What about the people he’d slept with?
“The woman…”
“I didn’t let her. I got out of bed quickly.”
“The man?”
“No one, little lamb.”
My pulse jumped. I didn’t know why he’d used the nickname, what made him choose it for me—or hell, for all I knew, it was a cult thing and all the helpless boys were little lambs. But I liked it.
“No more talking.”
“Okay.” We had spoken more than I thought we would anyway.
We stayed in the bath, lying together until the water got cold. I would have stayed there forever if Crow didn’t tap my thigh and signal for me to get out.
We dried off, and when I tried to put on the clothes he’d given me yesterday, he shook his head. Crow dressed, though, in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. I followed him naked, unsure what was happening, until he pulled my clothes from the dryer.
Disappointment burned in my chest. I didn’t want to wear my clothes. I wanted to wear his. It must have shown on my face because he frowned, his brows pulling together, but I shook off his concern, pretending it was nothing.
Crow watched me dress, then signaled for me to follow him. He pointed to the stool at the counter, then pulled eggs from the fridge.
“You don’t have to cook for me.” He only replied with a shrug that I guessed meant he wanted to. “I need to take my medicine.” I was thankful I had it with me. I’d been picking up a ninety-day supply when Crow found me.
He cocked his head slightly.
“One is an antidepressant, the other a mood stabilizer. They keep me level.” Most of the time.
His frown deepened, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. “Don’t judge. No one gives a shit if a person takes insulin or high blood pressure meds, but as soon as we take something for mental health, they look down on us. Fuck you, Crow.” I wanted to curl in on myself, to disappear. While I’d dealt with this all my life, for whatever reason, I hadn’t expected it from Crow. And while I felt strongly about not being judged for medication, I also understood that my brain was sometimes impulsive. That I could snap when the situation didn’t call for it.
He just kept staring at me, and though I knew he didn’t talk much, in this moment, it just pissed me off. But maybe more than that, it made me feel like suddenly he saw me, the real me, and didn’t like the picture.
“I want to go home.” I pushed off the stool, but before I could get far, Crow was in front of me, blocking the way.
“I’m not… I don’t…” He shook his head. “I don’t trust medication.”
Oh…oh. This wasn’t about me at all. It was about him and what he’d been through. I hadn’t even thought of that. It was my natural inclination to go to the worst-case scenario or to make it about myself. Considering I had such low self-worth, things went downhill fast from there. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Crow got me a drink while I got the bottles from the bag on the counter and took my pills.
He made scrambled eggs, bacon, and coffee, which we ate in the living room together since he only had one chair at the kitchen table and one at the bar.
Afterward he surprised me by tossing me my shoes, then my beanie. I put them on while Crow put his shoes on, sadness weighing me down because this was it. He was bringing me home.
I ripped my jacket from his hands, angry at him even though I didn’t have a right to be. I tugged it on like a bratty child. If I leave my bag here, I will have to come back. He’ll have to bring it to me. But when we went outside, Crow didn’t go toward the truck. He nodded at a stump—where he chopped wood, I assumed. With a frown, I sat down on it, already feeling chilly.
Crow went to the barn, pulled out some supplies, then began securing his greenhouse. Oh…he was doing his chores and taking me with him. Well, most likely he just didn’t want me alone in his house, but I didn’t mind. I wanted to be out here with him.
“It will withstand the snow and wind?” I asked, stepping closer.
Crow nodded, and disappointment hit me. I’d been hoping for words. As if sensing my frustration and actually giving a fuck, he said, “I built it with a truss design to provide extra strength. It’s double-walled, polycarbonate.”
He said the second part as if that meant something to me. I assumed it was what one built a greenhouse with if they lived in the snow. “Doesn’t it get too cold?”