Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
I sat in the dim hallway for several minutes. Rational thought told me to get up, shut his door, and go to bed. I wasn’t going to accomplish anything that night. Even if I woke him up, he wasn’t going to miraculously drag me into his arms and kiss me breathless. It had been a long day. If he’d found rest, I didn’t want to disturb that.
However, there was a part of me that ached to see contentment on his handsome face, even if it was only in slumber. I could sneak in, steal a moment of comfort, and then sneak out without him ever being the wiser.
It was selfish and wrong and a clear invasion of his privacy, but as I stood up and gave his door a silent push, I was desperate enough not to care.
The darkness stole my vision, but I knew that room like the back of my hand. The carpet crushed under my feet, the synthetic fibers sounding like tin cans in the otherwise silent room.
As I approached the side of his bed, my heart pounded against my rib cage, partially from the fear of getting caught and partially because that was the way my body reacted when Ramsey was near. Only as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I found he wasn’t near at all.
His midnight-blue comforter was smooth across the plush mattress, and the pillows appeared untouched. His room was always neat and tidy. Each time I’d passed his doorway that week, his bed had been made. Just not when he was supposed to be in it.
Maybe he’d heard Nora and me talking in the hall and woken up. Curiously, I looked to the bathroom, but the door was open and the light was off.
What the hell?
I turned in a circle, scanning the room, wondering if he’d snuck out before I could sneak in. I’d made it almost a full three hundred and sixty degrees around when I suddenly stilled, my attention honing in on the small walk-in closet in the corner.
Oh, God.
My breath caught, and my stomach churned.
No way he was in there.
I’d made sure he had the biggest room in the house, a massive king-sized bed, and enough pillows to sleep an army. After sleeping in a crappy bed, locked in a cell for so long, he should have been relishing in the comfort.
So there was no fucking way he was in that closet.
I didn’t breathe as I tiptoed over and quietly twisted the handle. I put my eye to the door, peering in as though catching a glimpse would soften the blow. He never stirred as I opened the door, but I had to slap a hand over my mouth to keep the sob from escaping.
My sweet Ramsey was sleeping soundly on the floor, his bare chest rising and falling with even breaths. He was on his side, a pillow under his head, one of the decorative throws from the couch in the den draped over his strong body. The blanket wasn’t long enough, so his bare feet hung out of the bottom.
It was sad, heartbreakingly so. But because it was Ramsey, it was also beautiful. I couldn’t make out much, but his lips were parted and his shadowy silhouette appeared strong and rugged, like a warrior resting from battle.
There was a small space in front of him—a place that had once belonged to me.
In what seemed like a different life, we’d spent a lot of rainy days alternating between napping and making out, curled together on the couch while my dad had been at work. If I’d gotten up to use the bathroom or get something to eat, Ramsey would welcome me back with a sleepy mumble and a half smile. He’d jostle me until he had me in the perfect position, snug in the curve of his front, and when he’d finally sag behind me, he’d let out a content hum. It had always felt like two broken pieces clicking into place.
Now, we were all but strangers and he was sleeping alone in a closet.
I wanted to cry and rage at the world. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t the way it was supposed to be. But despite years of trying, I couldn’t change any of that. Right then, the only thing I could control was the fact that he was alone.
I’d fought like hell, but he’d locked me out of his original prison. And dammit, I wouldn’t let him do it again.
I didn’t care if Ramsey was sleeping in hell; if he was struggling, so was I.
And who knew, maybe having a battle we could fight together would free us both.
It wasn’t like it could make it any worse.
The bright lights of the morning sun roused me to consciousness. I stretched my arms over my head, cringing when my back let out a loud crack. That was going to hurt later, but luckily, I didn’t have to work. It was Saturday and Joe had given me the day off. If only my internal clock had gotten the memo.