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)
“Almost there,” I told my agent as I braced the phone on my shoulder and entered the code on the driver’s side door. It swung open easily, and I used the running board that lowered automatically to climb up into the cab. God, that scent.
The memory hit me hard.
“William Carter, how in the sweet hell do you expect me to get up there in these?” I flashed my heels under my gown.
His grin stopped my heart. “I’ve got you, Morgan. Don’t worry.” He reached into the pocket of his dress blues and pulled out his key fob, lowering the running board with the press of a button. “This might be easier, though.” In a moment that passed way too quickly, I was in his arms as he climbed up on the board and lifted me into the cab. “I wouldn’t want you getting that pretty dress all dirty.”
I froze, one hand on the steering wheel and one on the console. My gaze rose to the visor, where his wings—the ones I’d pinned on him at graduation—were fastened. I sucked in a breath, but it only made it worse. Everything still smelled like Will, even after all this time. There was no escaping, no swallowing back the uninvited memory, no stopping the vise around my throat that tightened as my breaths came faster and faster.
I arched my neck, trying to make enough room for air to flow freely, but every ounce of breath I sucked in was thick with the scent of Will. I loved him. God, I loved him, and now this was all I had. He was gone. We’d never get the homecoming kiss he promised me, or the chance to be as happy as our friends. Tears pricked my eyes, not just from the thoughts but from the physical pain of my throat closing.
My head swam as a voice called my name. Please let it be him. Why was I still alive when someone as good as Will wasn’t?
“I’ve never seen anyone look as beautiful as you do tonight, Morgan.”
But that wasn’t real. That was two years and a lifetime ago.
I shoved myself sideways and almost missed the running board as I fled the cab. The sand cushioned my feet after falling those last few inches, and I sidestepped only to collapse against the back door and slide to the ground, uncaring of the scraping sensation as my back raked across the running board before my butt hit the ground.
Breathe. You have to breathe.
My cell phone plummeted as I drew my knees to my chest. I braced my elbows and cradled my head, blocking my ears like that might drown out the sound of his voice.
Another muffled voice—different this time—called my name through the raging cacophony of memories that wouldn’t shut up. Wouldn’t go back inside the box I kept them in.
“Morgan! Look at me!” Strong hands gripped my wrists.
My eyes flew open wide, taking in the set of ocean-blue ones only inches away. Tears leaked in a steady stream down my face as I struggled to get the air in, my breaths coming in quick, rasping pants.
Jackson. It was Jackson who’d been calling my name. Will wasn’t here. He couldn’t be because he was dead.
“Morgan, what’s going on?” Jackson asked, his brows furrowed in concern.
“I can’t—” I managed to force out, then threw my head back, trying to dislodge the vise from my throat.
“Okay,” he soothed, his grip softening on my wrists. “It’s okay. Just breathe.”
If it was that fucking easy, I wouldn’t be in this position.
“It’s okay. I’m right here.”
Our eyes stayed locked as his thumbs stroked a steady rhythm on the inside of my wrists, and slowly—so slowly—my breathing eased to match the pace of those strokes. My throat loosened in increments so small they couldn’t be measured.
Minutes. Hours. I wasn’t certain how long he stayed there, kneeling in front of me, witnessing my utter meltdown, but soon another voice cut through the fog.
“My phone,” I croaked. “Can you—”
“Got it.” He grabbed my phone and put it to his ear, still stroking my wrist with his other thumb. “Morgan’s not feeling well. Can she call you—”
“Help her.” Air filled my lungs in great heaps, but the immovable ache in my throat remained.
“This is Jax Montgomery. I’m Morgan’s neighbor. She just asked if I could help you. What exactly do you need?” His brows rose slightly as he listened to the reply. “Got it. Morgan, do you want me to get the registration from the truck?”
I nodded. “Glove box.”
His lips pursed as he glanced between my eyes and the open door. “Will you be okay for a second?”
I nodded again. It was safer than trusting my vocal cords.
“Give me just a minute,” he said into my phone. Then he stroked the side of my face, brushing that thumb over my cheekbone. “Just keep breathing.”