Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 140184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 701(@200wpm)___ 561(@250wpm)___ 467(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 701(@200wpm)___ 561(@250wpm)___ 467(@300wpm)
“I’m sorry if I woke you,” I say softly.
His handsome face is etched with concern instead of smugness this time since it’s the middle of the night and I’m standing on his front porch in my pajamas.
“Jet isn’t home,” he says slowly, unsure why I’m here.
“I know,” I blurt. “I’m not here to see Jet.”
His eyebrows rise with curious interest and he crosses his arms over his chest, probably chilly from the cool night breeze.
“I—I’m not here for sex or anything, either. I just… I couldn’t sleep. I had to get out of that apartment, and… I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”
My heart speeds up saying all that. I shift my weight nervously, thinking he might turn me away.
It’s late, and this isn’t his problem.
He’s home alone, and I really shouldn’t be here.
Instead of turning me away, he takes a step back and gestures for me to follow him.
“Come inside,” he says.
So I do.
Chapter eight
Kennedy
Once I’m inside the house, I’m not sure what to do. I feel awkward, to say the least.
At this hour, there’s only one reason to drive over to a guy’s house, but it really wasn’t mine.
I can feel his eyes on me, but I avoid his gaze. I’m afraid once I meet it, everything will come spilling out of me—complaints about my mother and the hell of living with her, all the tears I held back earlier when she and her new boyfriend ganged up on me in my bedroom.
I don’t want to cry or complain, so I look around for a distraction.
“Is Jonathan out, too?”
“Mm-hmm,” he murmurs.
“It’s late,” I remark. “Did I wake you up?”
“Yes.”
The truth startles me so much I almost look at him, but I remember I’m avoiding his gaze just in time to stop mine at his mouth. “Oh. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he says.
“I would have texted you, but I don’t have your number.”
Since I’m looking right at them, I can’t miss it when those full, perfect lips tug up with wry amusement. “Is that your way of asking for my number, Kennedy?”
I can feel my cheeks flush. “No. I was just saying.”
His tone is light, playful. A relief. “I think it is.” He uncrosses his arms and turns to walk toward the kitchen. “Are you thirsty?”
“Yes,” I murmur, slowly following after him.
Since I’ve been trapped in my room all night, I couldn’t go to the kitchen for more water once I’d drained my cup, either. When he reaches into his well-stocked refrigerator and turns back to offer me a bottle of water, I barely take time to thank him before uncapping it and gulping down a quarter of the bottle.
Milo closes the fridge door and watches me.
Once my basest need is quenched, I feel a little self-conscious. I run the tips of my fingers over my lips to swipe away the moisture and screw the cap back on. “Thanks.”
I don’t think he intended to ask the next question, but seeing how thirsty I was, he asks, “Have you eaten?”
“No, but I’m fine.”
“Would you like a sandwich?”
I would, but I shake my head no.
He makes me one, anyway.
We’re quiet as I sit at the island and scarf down the food he made me. I eat it and drink my water too fast. It makes my tummy hurt, but I feel stupid eating alone in front of him, and then I feel even worse for eating like some kind of homeless street urchin.
I feel much better once my body has some energy, though. I’ve been dragging all night, but I wasn’t doing much, so it didn’t matter.
“Thank you,” I say as he rinses off my plate in the sink, then loads it into the dishwasher.
“You don’t have to keep thanking me,” he says, turning the faucet off and turning to face me. “Do you just need to hang out for a bit, or do you want to stay the night?”
“I’m kind of sleepy… but I can go home if you want me to. I really didn’t mean to wake you,” I say, tucking a thick lock of unruly hair behind my ear.
Without acknowledging my fumbling offers to get out of his way, Milo walks over and shuts off the kitchen light, then he heads upstairs, clearly expecting me to follow.
It reminds me of last night, following him up to his bedroom.
Only this time, the other bedrooms are empty. The whole house is.
It’s just us.
I thought he might put me in Jet’s room tonight since Jet isn’t home, but he doesn’t even ask if I want to sleep with him, he just hauls me straight to his room.
I’m so grateful for the respite he’s providing, I wouldn’t have slept anywhere else even given a choice.
It feels so intimate when we walk through the dark bedroom to his bathroom. He flips on the light and gestures for me to go in.