Southern Secrets (Southern #7) Read Online Natasha Madison

Categories Genre: Angst, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Southern Series by Natasha Madison
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Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 74713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
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"What are those?" I ask, looking down at the two bags.

"The bedding and some stuff she didn’t want," he says, and if my heart wasn’t shattered before, it’s definitely shattered now.

"How is she doing?" I ask, looking back at the house and seeing that all the lights are off.

"She went from laughing to crying to throwing shit," he answers honestly. "Chelsea put something in her tea."

"Fuck." I shake my head. "Is Chelsea staying?" I ask and then hear a car coming. Looking up I see that it’s Mayson. He gets out of the truck, opening the door in the back and grabbing a bag out of it.

He comes over to us. "Figured you would still be here," he says. "Are you going anywhere?"

"As long as Liam is out there, I’m not going anywhere," I say, and he nods at me. "I’ll be out here if you need me."

"Why don’t you go to my place?" Mayson says. "I don’t know how she is going to react if she sees you here."

"I can’t leave her," I say, looking at them. "What would you do?" They both share a look. "Would you leave Willow?" I ask Quinn.

"I didn’t even know her name, and I wouldn’t leave her," Quinn says, folding his arms over his chest.

"And you," I say to Mayson. "Would you leave Chelsea?"

"Not in this lifetime," he says. "But …" he says, and I say something, and he holds up his hand. "Hear me out. If she comes out here and sees you’re here, it might push her over the edge, and she might never come back."

"He’s right," Quinn says. "And I never say Mayson is right. It actually physically pains me to say he’s right."

"I don’t want to hurt her," I say, and they both get it. "What if she wants to see me and I’m not here?"

"Then I’ll call you, and you can get here in under four minutes," Mayson says and tosses me his keys. "Go, and I swear if anything, and I mean anything, happens, I’ll call you."

"I can’t go,” I tell them the truth. “I just can’t.”

“At least hide the truck,” he says, and I nod at him. Quinn turns and goes to his truck and leaves, and I pack the two bags into the truck.

I spend the night watching the house, wondering if she is okay. I spend the night sitting on the porch, hoping I can get a glimpse of her if she wakes up. When the sun comes up, the front door opens, and I spring out of my chair, my heart beating out of my chest and my hand itching to hold her.

The door opens, and Chelsea comes out with two cups of coffee in her hand. "Figured you would still be here," she says, handing me a cup.

"How is she?" I ask, looking over her shoulder, hoping to see her. Hoping to talk to her and tell her how sorry I am. Hoping like fuck she can forgive me somehow.

"She just went to bed," she says. "She was up all night looking at the ceiling in her bedroom, and then she decided she didn’t want to sleep in her bed. So she got up and tried to sleep on the couch and then didn’t want to lie there." She takes a sip of her coffee. "I’ve never seen her like this. She’s usually the strong one." The burning in my stomach starts to form.

"The last thing I want to do is hurt her," I tell Chelsea, and she smiles at me sadly.

"I don’t know how you are going to make her forgive you," she answers me honestly. "But if it matters, I’m rooting for you." I smile sadly. "Not for you but for her. She deserves to be happy. She deserves to have a man by her side who isn’t going to fuck her over. She deserves for someone to carry her burden for once and not that she carries it on her own."

The lump in my throat forms again, and I know that I’m that man. I’m the man she needs. I want to be that man for her. I would do anything for her. "I’ll die fighting," I say, handing her back the coffee. "I have to go, but I’ll be back."

"We got her," she says, and her words hurt me more than I can describe, more than I can say.

I make a pit stop before heading to Jacob’s house. Pulling up at the barn, I can see the light on inside, and I know he’s already here. I get out of the truck, and the tightness in my neck is just as bad as the tightness in my stomach.

He walks out of the barn with a cup of coffee in his hand. His jeans and plaid shirt are like a uniform with his cowboy hat.


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