Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 28874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 144(@200wpm)___ 115(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 144(@200wpm)___ 115(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)
I know it's crazy, but I could tell he was being different with me. I don’t know what came over me, but I just followed him. I don’t think I could have stopped myself if I wanted to. I needed to check if he was okay or if I had done something wrong.
“Winter, I–”
“You’re bleeding.” I see a towel on top of his hamper, so I grab it. I press it to his injured hand. He doesn’t stop me. Garrett only watches me. “Don’t do that.”
“Sorry, I was pissed.” He drops his head.
“I didn’t mean hit the wall, but yeah, maybe don’t do that either.” His eyebrows rise.
“Don’t do what, then?”
“Call me Winter.” I lick my lips. “Unless, I don’t know. Has something changed? All of a sudden you’re not calling me snow angel after I told you about my life.”
"Fuck no; I'm worried I scared you, and I'm trying to back off. I’m pissed and on edge.”
“Pissed at me?”
“Never you, Snow.” With his other hand, he cups the back of my neck, pulling me into him. His mouth comes down on mine in a soft kiss. “I want to hurt all of them,” Garrett says, placing another kiss on my mouth. “Maybe even kill them.” Again, his mouth is on mine. This kiss is as gentle as the others. He is so mad, but still sweet and gentle to me.
His reactions are so different from what I’m used to. Usually, when a man gets worked up and anger takes over, I stay out of the way. But that’s not how I reacted when I thought Garrett was upset. I think it’s because I have no doubt that he would never hurt me. In the short time I have known him, he’s more than proven that.
“You’re mad for me.” I smile against his mouth.
“More than mad, Snow.”
“Let me clean up your hand.”
“It’s fine.”
“Please.”
“Fuck me,” he mutters.
“What?”
“You give me that face and a please, and I’ll let you do any damn thing you want.” I laugh. Why does that make me feel so dang special?
“Then let me do it.”
“All right,” he agrees. He leads me out of the closet, which is larger than my bedroom, and into the bathroom.
“Holy crap,” I whisper when we enter it. His tub could be a mini pool. There are even two sinks! Why does a bathroom need two sinks? We only have one bathroom in our entire house. “Are you rich?” I blurt out before I realize it. “I mean, ‘cause the two sinks and all.”
“Two sinks?” He laughs.
“Why are there two?”
“It’s pretty standard for a master bathroom. A his and hers.”
“His and hers?”
“Well, here it would be. I suppose in some homes, it could be a his and his or a hers and hers.” I still don’t get it. “It’s for a couple. They each get their own sink.”
“Oh, wow. So you are rich.”
“I do all right.” He says it with a laugh. Garrett opens a drawer, pulling out a first aid kit.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. It’s rude.”
“Snow, I always want you to say what you’re thinking. I’m sure it’s a bit of a different world out here. I want you to be yourself.”
I guess it’s okay if I ask the next question I've been thinking about since he told me why there are two sinks. “Have you ever had someone use the second sink?”
My curiosity is a double-edged sword because I want to know but I also don’t. I like thinking that I’m the only one Garrett acts this way toward. But I know that’s probably not the reality of things. Out here, a lot of couples live in sin, as my mother would say. They would cohabitate and fornicate, often breaking up and finding another partner.
His lips twitch. “It’s just Bear and me here. All it’s ever been.” Heat rushes to my cheeks, and I know I have been busted.
“It’s not my business. I’m–”
“Stop apologizing.” I’m about to say sorry again but catch myself. “You have nothing to say sorry for. You can say whatever the fuck you want. No one can stop you.”
“Out here, I suppose.” Garrett flexes his fist. “Hey, stop that,” I order, and he does.
“There is only an ‘out here’ now, Snow. You’re free.”
That’s all I’ve ever wanted, but right now I’m not sure I want to be free of Garrett. “This might burn,” I tell him when I go to wipe the cut I see on his knuckle with an alcohol wipe. He doesn’t even make a face when I do it. “It doesn’t hurt?”
“I have a high tolerance for pain.”
“Must be nice,” I mutter. I wish I could say the same.
“I’ll kill them.” I jerk my head up to meet Garrett's eyes. It’s the first time I see darkness in them.
“Don’t. You’d have to live with that.”