Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 138642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
“No! I don’t.” She shakes her head quickly, blonde hair whipping around her face. “I’m stronger with you than I am without you, Grant. I’ve figured that out. So maybe life is messy right now. Maybe I just found out my father is a huge creep and two of my brothers are crazy killers and now dead. Maybe my mom’s in the hospital fighting for her life and my sister’s an addict who almost married our half brother. But... but I can find the strength to fight through all of that, to be there for my family—my real family—and to stand strong. And I don’t have to search hard as long as I have you... As long as you’ll let me hold you up, too, I mean. As long as you’ll accept my apology for being stupid and not coming to my senses sooner.”
I shouldn’t be able to smile again.
Not after the black day we’ve had.
“You’re a little short to hold me up,” I say, grinning like a madman.
I cup my palm against Ophelia’s cold skin.
Her eyes narrow, but her smile only brightens as she rubs her cheek to my palm. “Don’t be an ass. You know what I mean.”
“Maybe I want to hear you say it.”
Her eyes glimmer, widening, her smile fading.
Her cheeks flush hot and those soft pink lips finally give me what I need.
“I love you, Grant. I never stopped loving you. Not once in all these years.”
I’m burning inside like the setting sun as I lean in and claim that lovely mouth.
“Then it’s a damn good thing I love you, too,” I say, growling with delight. “I’ve always been obsessed, Philia, and I always will be. As long as I’m breathing, you’re mine. Plain and simple.”
26
THE ONE FOR ME (OPHELIA)
I can’t believe I’m in this grocery store, buying sriracha sauce again.
We must go through two bottles a week lately.
Between Grant’s addiction to spice and Ros complaining about how bland the food is at the medical center and begging her big sister to bring her something better to eat even if technically it’s against the rules of her program, we’re in a condiment crisis.
Well, since she’s doing her best, I’m not going to deny her a little fire-breath.
Not when I’m so glad to have her back—and lucky that Redhaven has a rehab ward so I can still visit every day. Even if 'ward' is a bit of a stretch when it’s technically just one big room at the medical center, and that room is currently occupied by Ros while she gets past the worst of detox.
It’s been a heart-wrenching few weeks.
She’ll be out and on home watch soon enough, but until then, you can bet her big sister’s on contraband food duty.
It feels like my life revolves around caring for other people lately, and that’s okay.
Making sure Grant eats enough every day.
Bundling Nell up and taking her to and from school with a handmade lunch on weekdays.
Stopping by to feed Ros something with real flavor, check on her progress, then going to see Mom. So far, she’s doing better, even if she hasn’t woken up again.
The doctors say she could come around any day. Against all odds, the experimental chemo’s working.
Her body is slowly rebuilding itself, instead of dangling over a bottomless pit by a thinning thread held together by endless rounds of therapies.
I’m still taking care of the shop, too. Nobody’s Bees-Ness will still be around whenever she wakes up, just waiting for her, whatever she decides to do with the store.
Also, I still need to figure out what to do with my life. What’s going to be my life’s work as this strange and stormy chapter comes to an end and a new one begins.
But for now, I’m content with where I am, one day at a time.
Taking care of everyone by daylight and warming Grant’s bed at night.
Yes, I’m blushing like I’ve downed a whole spoon of sriracha myself as I toss a few more bottles in my basket for the pantry and move on.
We were barely apart and quasi-broken up, yet here we are devouring each other like we have years of lost time to make up for.
Maybe we do.
All those lonely years when I could’ve been here with him, instead of running from my past and abandoning my home. Trying to carve out a new life in another state that was always missing its biggest pieces.
Back then, I wasn’t ready to face him.
Our feelings were confused whispers then. They easily would’ve been crushed and silenced forever under the weight of grieving Ethan, back when it was still so fresh and killing.
How could we have loved through the bruises?
How does anyone with an acid pain wearing away their hearts?
We both needed to heal.
Now, for the first time, I feel like I’m no longer suffocating. Healing might look like scar tissue, but we’re stronger than ever.