Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 54287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
He gulps. “Yeah. I was a mess. I didn’t want you or your family to see the man I’d become. It was bad, Abby.”
I can’t sit here any longer. I shoot up from my seat and make my way over to Davis. Sitting on the arm of his chair, I put my hand on his shoulder, and even though his muscles bunch under my touch, I don’t let go. “We could have been there for you, Davis. We could have helped you.”
CHAPTER 2
DAVIS
I smile because it’s exactly what her brother told me. “Yeah, that’s what Zach said. He had to leave on another mission and he begged me to let him tell your dad, but I didn’t want you all to know. I had to deal with it on my own. I had to get it under control before I could trust myself to be around anyone. I mean, heck, Abby, Alexis was four years old. She didn’t need to be around me like that, and I know you. I know your mom and dad. You all would have made me come here, and I was so messed up, I would have destroyed the only family I’ve ever known. I couldn’t do that.”
“Davis…” She shudders. I tried to hide the emotion in my voice, but I know she heard it. I was twenty years old when her brother joined the Army. I’ve been her brother’s best friend for twelve years, and when her family found out I grew up in foster homes across Texas and didn’t have a family of my own, they tried to make me a part of theirs. Abby was young then—heck, I always thought of her as Zach’s little sister—but as she got older, I couldn’t help but appreciate the woman she was becoming. Eight years younger than me is not a big difference now, but none of that matters anymore. Absolutely nothing can come of Abby and me.
With her sitting on the arm of my chair, all my senses are heightened. She puts her arm at my back, and I lean into her. Her arm barely reaches around me to my other shoulder, but she pulls me against her until I’m resting my head against her chest. She means to comfort me, but right now, I’m feeling anything but solace. Being this close to her has me on edge, thinking things I shouldn’t be thinking. Unable to resist, I wrap an arm around her, hugging her back. Her voice is just a soft whisper against the top of my head. “We could have handled it, Davis. We could have been there for you.”
I don’t pull away, but I do stiffen. “I didn’t want you to have to handle anything. I didn’t want to bring your family my problems.”
She laughs. “We may not look it, but we’re pretty good when it comes to dealing with things. I mean, they handled me and my teenage pregnancy pretty well. We handle it when Zach goes on those long missions and we don’t hear from him for weeks at a time.” She squeezes me tighter. “We could have handled this too, Davis.”
I do pull away now. By the tone in her voice, I know exactly what she’s thinking. Pity fills her voice, and I hate it because the one thing I didn’t want her to know about me is the first thing I tell her when I see her. I regret telling her, but I know I did the right thing. If I’m going to be around her family—around her daughter—she has to know. She’ll probably never look at me the same way again, and she’ll know I was weak, but I do my best to be completely honest with her. “I’m fine now, Abby. I mean, I know I’ll always be an addict, but I celebrated one year of being clean last month.”
She nods. It’s obvious she wants to say something, but she doesn’t.
For just a second, I allow myself to sit here and take her all in. She’s so close, I could easily lean just a few inches in and be close enough to press my lips to hers. But I can’t. No matter how long I’ve thought about it, dreamed about, or imagined it in my mind, I can’t do it. It takes all the strength I have to get up from the chair and put some distance between us. When I’m safely across the room from her, I cross my arms over my chest, ready and needing to change the subject. I point at her.
“What about the ex? He still giving you trouble?”
For just a second, she looks at me unsure. “I’m sorry,” she says, pointing at the spot I just vacated. “I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”
I shake my head “You didn’t. But are you avoiding the subject of your ex?” I hate to bring up her ex-boyfriend and the father of her child, but it’s been on my mind.