Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 145823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Dr. Circe had given me the assignment yesterday, calling it my next step in situational avoidance. Somehow, this seemed easier than disparaging Will on a piece of paper.
The handle was warm from the sun as my fingers wrapped around it. I took a deep breath and tugged. The door clicked open, and I swung it wide, stepping back so it didn’t hit me.
One. The scent of warm leather reached me just long enough for Will to flood my mind. His voice filled my head, laughing as he put his baseball hat on over my hair.
Two. The breeze gusted, whipping past me, clearing that scent.
Three. His wings were still pinned to the visor on the driver’s side.
Four. The sunlight caught on his dog tags, and I couldn’t look away.
Five.
Six.
Seven. Those weren’t the ones he was wearing when it happened.
Eight. His mother had that set.
Nine. She had the flag, too, when she was sober enough to remember where she put it.
Ten. I grabbed the edge of the door and slammed it home, not in anger this time but in pure desperation to shut the metaphorical door.
My chest heaved. I did it. There was no anxiety attack looming or anything. The memories stopped with the closing of the door. Oddly enough, I felt in control for the first time, as if I’d gained the power to open or shut the door to Will himself when I chose to.
I turned around to head back into the house and found Jackson staring at me from the middle of our yards.
My heart did a somersault.
He looked mouthwateringly good, but that was nothing different. I bet the man even looked delicious when he was hungover or sick, which was just unfair. He tucked his hands in his pockets and tilted his head to the side slightly as his mouth tightened and his eyes begged me to come closer. He was trying to give me the space I’d forced between us, and it only made me like him even more for it.
My pulse spiked, and the half of my heart that had lobbied for self-preservation turned traitor at the yearning in his expression. Oh God, how could I walk away from him? What if I never felt this way again?
The first step was the hardest, but the others came easily as I made my way over to him.
“Morgan.” His gaze raked over me hungrily, as if he was searching for some kind of answer.
“Hi, Jackson.” My lips lifted in a smile, and his entire posture relaxed.
“I’ve been trying to talk to you. Please, you have to let me explain.” He moved forward but kept his hands in his pockets.
“You don’t have to explain.” He was close enough that I caught the faint scent of cologne as I craned my neck to look up at him.
“No. Morgan, please.” His hands flew from his pockets to gently cradle my face. “Please, don’t kill this before you give me a chance to talk to you.”
My hands covered his, and my thumbs gently stroked the backs of his hands. “I mean, you don’t owe me an explanation. Not for any of it.”
His brow knit in clear confusion.
“Your parents died in a boating accident,” I said softly. “It makes sense that you would decide to become the one person who could have saved them. And as for the other thing.” I swallowed but didn’t look away. “I would have thrown his name into Google if I were you, too. Then I would have gone through every post on his social media and mine until I figured out exactly what our relationship had been. I can’t fault you for wanting answers that I was in no place to give, though I wish you had given me the time and the chance to tell you myself.”
His eyes squeezed shut, and his forehead fell against mine to rest there lightly. “I don’t deserve you.”
“You say that like I’m a reward, when there’s every chance I’m the very trial that might drive you to drink,” I teased with a hint of complete truth.
“What does this mean?” He pulled back enough to keep eye contact.
“I don’t know. I’m answering as honestly as I can. It scares the living bejeezus out of me that you fly, and I’m not sure I can get past it. But I’m hoping that you might give me a little patience and grace, and maybe just wait a little bit so my head and my heart can sort themselves out.”
“I’ll give you whatever time you need. I’m not going anywhere,” he promised. “I’ll wait forever if it means I get the chance to kiss you again.”
This man’s mouth was going to be the death of me.
I didn’t have any words to respond with, so I rose on my toes and brushed my mouth over his, then truly kissed him. It was soft and chaste, but the meaning of it hit me harder than any passionate encounter could have. “Better?”