Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 67490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
His lips twitched. “Are we in a committed relationship?”
I bit my lip.
The thing was, I wanted to be in a committed relationship.
But other than the last few weeks of us talking, we didn’t really have much time under our belts. And talking to someone over the phone to get to know them versus getting to know them in person were two different things.
“When I get back home,” I said. “I don’t want to say ‘no’ because I do really like you, but I can’t say that we’ll ever get further than just casual banter until we can spend some real, face to face time with each other.”
His lips tipped up at one corner, the smirk making my heart rate accelerate. “Yeah, that’s kind of where I’m at, too.”
“That doesn’t mean we can’t still get to know each other,” I said. “Because I think it’ll make it easier for when I’m actually home.”
“Are you planning on staying home for a while?”
I grinned. “Until you can trust me and decide if I’m the one… and if I can decide you’re the one right back.”
Dating in this world was tough. I’d had my fair share of dates in my twenty-nine years of life, and all of them had left me… underwhelmed.
When you had a dad and brothers like I did, you kind of expected the entire world to be better than they actually were.
It was a disservice and a kindness all at once, because I knew I wouldn’t settle for anything less than everything.
I wanted a man who loved me. Who was as truly devoted to me as I was to him. Who would go out and buy me a new pot just because I mentioned that I needed one—something my dad did for my mom just last week.
I mean, literally, my dad knew what kind of pots my mom favored. He’d listened to her, and retained the information that she needed a new ‘large’ pot. He’d gotten the largest one he could find when he’d stopped for milk that he knew was running low.
My dad taught my brothers every day that it took nothing to notice the things around you.
And that was why, even single, they went over to my house and noticed when I needed things fixed. Then came back and fixed them for me.
Like… how perfect were they?
Normal guys weren’t like that, and I’d met my fair share of them.
Dated a few.
Realized that maybe my expectations were set too high…
“Hey, what happened to that blanket?” he laughed, startling me out of my thoughts.
I looked down at the blanket now pooled at my waist.
“Oh,” I picked at it. “I washed it in the washer and then dried it, and the thing started to unravel. It’s one of my favorite blankets, though. So soft. I hand-knitted it myself. I looked for some chunky yarn to kind of… fix… this one. But they don’t have the particular color that I want. And I don’t really feel like spending hours making a new blanket. It’s kind of tedious and being ADHD like I am… I have to definitely be in the mood to do something like this.”
That was an understatement.
It’d taken me all of a month to make this blanket because I kept getting bored and wanting to do other things. But then one day, I sat down and just ‘felt’ it, and knitted the entire thing.
I loved the damn blanket because it wasn’t too hot and allowed me to work my fingers and toes through the fabric as I was trying to get to sleep.
And I didn’t have the heart to throw it away or order one, because it just didn’t hold the same meaning.
“Damn, that sucks,” he said. “It looks pretty cozy. I’ve never seen one like it before.”
My lips curved up into a smile and then we talked about hand knitting for an hour before I finally had to end the call with him.
Six in the morning arrived pretty damn early, and lives were at risk if I wasn’t on my game.
I went to bed with a smile on my face, and the knowledge that the man I’d just hung up with truly cared about what I had to say. Because who would be okay listening to someone yap about hand-knitting a blanket, and all the trials and tribulations that were associated with said blanket, if they didn’t actually care about the person doing the talking?
CHAPTER 9
I wish girls who wanted boob jobs, and girls who wanted boob reductions, could just Venmo each other some titty.
-Ande to Addison
ANDE
3 weeks later
I knew something was wrong the moment I woke up.
Something just wasn’t… right.
I looked at the clock and realized that it was too late in the day to call Addison, my twin sister, who was stationed in Germany.
She was likely asleep.
That didn’t mean I couldn’t check with the rest of my family.