Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Dropping my phone on the leather couch between us, I glance at his face. “You were fast asleep. What woke you up?”
His lips part, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he shoves a hand through his hair. “What woke you up?”
I don’t have an answer to that question either. My mind quieted enough after we made love that I was able to sleep for almost two hours.
When I woke up, I needed space, so I came into the main living area.
My time with Case is coming to an end unless he offers me a job at the Cabbott office in San Francisco.
“I’m not sure,” I answer with a shrug.
He leans forward to scoop my bare legs into his lap. I’m wearing his white shirt again, but this time only one button is done up.
Running a hand over my skin, he sighs. “I had a dream about you.”
My mouth curves up into a smile. “Tell me about it.”
Glancing at me, he grins. “You were singing, of course.”
“Of course?” I question with a fake scowl. “What does that mean?”
“You always sing to me in my dreams.”
My breath catches in my chest. “Do you dream of me often?”
“Since I met you, yes.” He glances at the windows that overlook Madison Avenue. “Before that, I had other dreams.”
“What dreams?” I question even though I doubt he’ll answer.
He’s holding something painful inside. I see it whenever I look deeply into his eyes. It might be masked by happiness now because of us, but it’s still there below the surface, gnawing at him, consuming him.
His gaze drops to my legs. He runs a finger over one. “Dreams about my brother.”
“What’s his name?”
His hand stops. I see the sudden shake in it. Reaching forward, I place mine over it.
“Apollo,” he whispers. “My brother’s name was Apollo Easton.”
***
I wait for more, but the only sound that fills the silence is the beat of raindrops against the window.
I rest my head on Case’s shoulder, trying to comfort him, so he knows that I’m here. I’ll listen. I’ll understand.
“In my dreams, he’s eighteen.” He closes his eyes. “I think when someone dies, they never age in your dreams. They always look and sound the way they did the last time you saw them.”
I bite back the urge to cry because that’s not what he needs. He needs strength. “What was he like?”
“He was nothing like me.”
I smile because I doubt that. Case must have an influence on every person he meets. He’s had an incredible impact on me.
“It was a long time ago.” His hand inches over my knee. “I don’t want to forget him. I never want to forget him.”
“You won’t,” I offer even though the memory of my grandma has faded over time.
He looks at me. “He would have liked you, Emma. He probably would have liked you more than he liked me.”
I can’t help but laugh. “That’s hard to imagine. You’re pretty likable.”
His gaze wanders to the window again before it levels back on me. “Come back to bed. The rain will help us fall asleep.”
I place my hand in his. “Lead the way.”
He does.
We crawl into his bed, and with his arms wrapped around me he drifts off. I watch him sleep with a new understanding of why sadness has taken root in his beautiful green eyes.
Chapter 57
Case
I swore that I’d never tell a woman about my brother.
Guilt has kept his story locked inside of me for years.
I couldn’t even get the words out to the people I worked with at Cabbott Mobile.
Drake handled it.
He handled everything after I found Apollo’s lifeless body. He let me stay at his apartment until I moved into this place. He made sure I ate at least once a day. It was Drake who sorted through my brother’s belongings and took care of all the arrangements I couldn’t think about.
I glance up from where I’m sitting at the dining room table when I hear Emma’s footsteps approaching down the hall.
I left her in my bed. She was curled up, fast asleep.
I got up to work on my laptop, but that requires concentration, so everything that needs my attention is still waiting.
“Good morning,” she whispers when she rounds the corner.
Good morning indeed.
She’s a vision wrapped in another of my button-down shirts. This one is light blue.
I’m tempted to ask her to toss all of her clothes out and only wear mine.
“How are you?”
The compassion in her voice slices through me. She’s a kind soul. Her heart is in the right place.
I knew that the conversation that I started last night wouldn’t end when we fell asleep. She’d want to know more. I want her to know more, but it’s going to take time, and we don’t have a hell of a lot of that left.
Drake will be back in Manhattan soon, and I’ll take off for California.