Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75424 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75424 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
No, I wouldn’t. I would want to save that little girl, to wrap her up in a big snuggly blanket, take her home with me, and make sure she never had to walk on eggshells to stay safe ever again.
That was my childhood—trying to stay safe and fly under the radar. Forget being loved or listened to or understood. That was for other kids, people like Ian and Jess, who both had warm, wonderful parents, and Cameron, whose single mom was devoted to helping her boy grow up strong and happy. Even Harlow’s shouty dad and overbearing mother always bossed her around from a place of love.
And maybe that’s why I’ve never gotten serious with anyone.
It’s not just my body that I’ve been holding back. It’s my heart, too. I’ve never fallen for one of the guys I’ve dated. I’ve never let myself because…
Well, because I guess secretly, I’ve always assumed that no one would love me back. My own mother and father didn’t, so why would a romantic partner?
The realization makes me feel like I’m drowning on dry land.
After years of therapy, I thought I had myself figured out but…guess not.
I fight to pull in a breath, but my lungs are locked, frozen, and my heart feels like it’s about to burst.
I’m getting perilously close to losing my shit and my therapist street cred when Ian says, “But this guy doesn’t get to live rent-free in my head anymore. I can be there for my friends without wasting another second on his drama. So…I’m sorry that I didn’t do what felt right all those years ago. Please forgive me. Thank you, I love you,” he says before dropping the drawing into the pit.
I watch the edges catch fire and the flames quickly spread to consume my father’s face and I feel…better.
Not only is the worst of this experience finally over, but I can’t help but notice Ian’s modifications to the mantra, that his apology seemed intended for me and that he didn’t say goodbye.
Ian has never said goodbye. Even when he left for training camp, he always came back to visit. He never deserted me or forgot me. He made me feel cared for, important, special…
How could I have even thought about putting that at risk?
Even if he was interested in being more than friends, a few months of hot sex—or however long I managed to hold his much-more-experienced interest—wouldn’t be worth the long-term fallout.
I can’t lose Ian. I just can’t.
Just thinking about it makes me want to run home, wipe off all this makeup, change back into my grungy, oversized clothes and forget I ever pretended to be a grown-up. I’m not a grown-up, not like these men are, and I might never be. It’s just too damned scary. Better to remain in that murky, not-quite-whole place I’ve inhabited since I left my father’s house and never have to face the demons of my past or the challenges of a fully fleshed-out future.
I’ll be the spinster aunt who brings my friends’ kids presents and sleeps with her dog every night. And I’ll probably end up happier than all those people out there fighting to keep love alive in a world that seems determined to make human connection as hard as possible.
On the outside, I’m still standing in this circle of men, but on the inside, I’m running back to my safe place as fast as my feet can carry me.
So, when Kyle says in a rough voice, “I don’t think I can do this, Evie. I’m sorry. I just can’t. Not today,” I nod and say, “That’s okay, Kyle. I understand.”
Because I do.
Boy, do I.
I force a smile, ignoring how fake and stiff it feels on my face as I say, “But I think everyone deserves two donuts. This was some great work, guys. Truly. I’m so proud of all of you.”
“But you’re proudest of me, right, Sheepish?” Sven grins as he turns up the collar on his track jacket. “Because I’m being such a cuddly team player today and all.”
“I wouldn’t cuddle you if you paid me ten thousand dollars,” Laser says, punching Sven good-naturedly on the arm as he starts back inside. “Last one to the donuts has to eat the peanut butter ones.”
“I like the peanut butter ones,” Pete says. “Save those for me, dog. I’ll eat the shit out of those.”
One by one, the team steps away from the fire, until only Ian and I are left.
For the first time since his turn at the pit, his blue-gray eyes settle on my face, a question there I’m not sure how to answer.
But I do my best to fake it, “It’s okay,” I say, my voice husky. “And I’m okay. Like Sven said. But thank you. You’ve always been a good friend to me.”
“I’m not sure about that,” he says softly. “But I’d like to be, moving forward. You’re a really special person, Evie. One of the best people I know.”