Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 68698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Was he wondering about all that we’d lost out on, too?
All because of him?
Not to sound bitter or anything, but had he not forced me out of his life, going as far as to block me even, he would’ve known that life wasn’t what he wanted it to be for me.
He would’ve gotten the text that I sent him to tell him that I couldn’t stay in medical school.
He would’ve known that I was back in town.
He would’ve known that I hadn’t moved on.
He would’ve known that he could say we were broken up no matter what, but I would always consider him mine.
But we were broken up.
Well and truly.
We’d both dated other people—or at least, I’d tried to.
I think on my end, it was because he wanted me to move on.
On his end, I decided that it was a desperation move. One that hadn’t worked out well for him, seeing as he was divorced.
At least, that was what I told myself so I could live with the fact that he’d moved on, and I hadn’t.
I closed my eyes and allowed the rhythmic thrum of the motorcycle’s motor to soothe me. I went back to a time when this was the best feeling in the world. When I was on the back of Aodhan’s bike, pressed up against him, I felt like my world was complete. As if there wasn’t anything that could make it bad, because I had the perfect moment in time right before me.
But all good things come to an end.
Mine and Aodhan’s had.
And this ride would, too.
Angry at myself for falling into the lull of remembered good times, I pulled back, forcing myself to put distance between Aodhan’s back and me.
I could tell he noticed, too.
His hand went from his handlebars to his leg, and his fingers clenched, as if he wanted to reach backward and pull me back into him.
Well, I was done playing like this was going to happen.
Aodhan might have once been my dream, might’ve once been who I saw myself with for the rest of my life, but he wasn’t for me anymore.
He wasn’t going to be the thing that I looked forward to at the end of the long nights, telling myself that one day, he might just let me in again.
Stomach clenching in hurt, I crossed my arms over my chest and looked around, feeling the tingling throb of my neck start to ache with the continuous pounding of the wind against it.
By the time he finally came to a stop in front of the newly built vet clinic, I had pain-filled tears in my eyes.
Ones that I quickly dashed away before he dismounted, turned around, and offered me his hand.
I looked down, knowing he’d catch the sheen in my eyes if I didn’t, and said, “Thank you.”
At least the croaking of my throat was explained away by the near strangulation I’d received earlier.
Or, I’d hoped it’d be explained, anyway.
But Aodhan had always been so good at reading me. So good at knowing that I was in a bad mood before I’d even shown any outward signs of it.
Like now.
He must’ve realized that I’d pulled away, or started to build up my walls, because he caught my chin with one of his fingers, and gently lifted it up.
I kept my eyes closed, hoping that he’d let me go, but he didn’t.
So, sighing, I opened my eyes to see his smoky-gray ones drilling into mine.
My breathing hitched.
Jesus, the man had always had a way about him. So captivating and intense.
I swallowed hard, and a blister of pain filled my features. One in which he saw.
“You’re in pain?” he asked.
I nodded, again painfully.
“I think someone inside might have some medication,” he said. “I should’ve gotten yours filled before we even came here.”
It’d been about an hour since we’d left the hospital. And two hours since they’d given me any pain medication.
At first, I’d been intending to tough it out.
But with the way my throat was starting to feel, I knew I wouldn’t be able to tough shit out.
“I have it,” Folsom called. “I filled it with the vet medication.”
I blinked.
“What?” Aodhan asked. “Why?”
“Because it’s the same shit, for a quarter of the price, and I dosed it so that it’s not fit for a horse, but a human. Don’t worry.” Folsom smirked.
I rolled my eyes, walked up to my friend, and threw my arms around her.
Folsom wasn’t a big hugger. She endured them for my sake, and her daughter’s sake, but ultimately, she hated being hugged.
But, in that moment when she returned my hug, I knew that she’d been worried.
“I’m okay,” I promised.
She sighed, swirling the loose hair at my neck, before letting me go.
“You’re not okay. You’re so far from being okay that it’s comical.” She paused. “But you’ll get there,” she agreed.