Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 125465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
“I just used the stove and turned the oven on for heat, so it’ll get warmer in no time. I did my best to be quiet, so I wouldn’t wake you.”
“Thank you.” Once I’m on my feet, I stand on tiptoe to give him a soft kiss. The fact that he accepts it gladly leaves the room feeling warmer already.
Not only that, but he cups my face between his palms, stroking my cheeks with his thumbs. How does he do it? Something so simple, yet it lights me up inside and reminds me of why he’s been the only man for me ever since I was old enough to develop my first crush. His familiar blue eyes shine with all the love I’ve missed for so long.
Instinct leaves me wanting nothing more than to melt against him and beg him to come back to bed with me. One thing that hasn’t changed is the way my body responds to his nearness. I have no control over it. If he touches me or looks at me a certain way, I’m lost.
Now that I’m standing so close to him, though, it’s obvious he didn’t get enough sleep. “You look exhausted.” I run my hand over his scruffy cheek, which is paler than I’ve ever seen him, like he’s not getting nearly enough sunlight or exercise and far too little rest.
“I’m fine.” He kisses my palm before wrapping an arm around my waist. “I made you breakfast. Nobody will ever accuse me of being a chef, but I can fix oatmeal like a pro.”
“That sounds perfect.” I allow him to pull me from the room, wrapping my arms around him as we walk the short way to the kitchen table. If it could only be like this always.
If only, if only, if only I knew why he keeps swinging from one mood to the other.
Two bowls wait, both full of steaming oatmeal sprinkled with raisins. “I remembered you like raisins in yours,” he offers.
“I do. You pay attention to everything, don’t you?”
He’s almost glowing as he pulls out my chair. “I pay attention to you. I always have.” My heart could break from happiness, I swear. I have Ren back. My Ren.
Even if he looks completely wrung out.
Now I wonder if his mood swings have to do with stress and exhaustion. The stress would explain the lack of sleep, too. I can only imagine kidnapping someone and getting away with it would be a stressful undertaking.
I’m clinging to the idea like I’d cling to a life raft in the middle of a stormy ocean. But I need to hang on to something, anything to give me hope.
“So listen.” He takes the chair across from mine and picks up his spoon to stir the raisins in. “We need to have a talk.”
I’ll have to ignore the shiver that runs through me and the goose bumps now pebbling my arms and legs. I don’t like the sound of this any more than I like the way his voice went a little flat. Serious.
Something tells me this isn’t going to be about anything pleasant or happy.
But I love him. And I want to help him in any way I can. That hasn’t changed. “Okay,” I murmur, stirring my oatmeal to cool it off a little. “I’m all ears.”
My stomach’s in knots now, unfortunately. Since when do I carry this pit of dread in my stomach when I’m around him? I hate it. I wish it wasn’t there.
I wish so many things. For instance, that we could go back in time and erase everything that happened last night after I got out of the shower. The stuff before that, we can keep. Most definitely.
Note to self: remember not to demand answers.
Rather than settle back in the chair like he does, I sit on the edge, my body holding the memory of last night, even if I want nothing more than to forget it.
He doesn’t seem to notice, taking a few spoonfuls before continuing. “I started to tell you about this last night. How it’s time to make things right. For my family and all the other families destroyed by those sick bastards. This is more important to me than I can explain. It’s the sort of thing you have to feel in order to understand.”
I nod slowly, less inclined than ever to eat. He’ll notice and bring it up, though. That’s enough to get me lifting the spoon to my lips.
He’s right. I can’t begin to understand what he’s been through, no matter how much I wish I could relate, if only to help him.
“Do you want to be with me?”
His seeming change of subject, out of the blue, startles me into sitting up straighter. “Of course I do.”
“No matter what?”
Haven’t I already proven that? I know better than to ask. “Yes. No matter what. My feelings haven’t changed.”