Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78749 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78749 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
I bite my lip when he tosses the jacket on the back of the couch and jerks his fingers through his hair. “Everything all right?” I ask softly, placing my Kindle and cell on the coffee table.
“No,” he answers then moves past me to the kitchen, and I hear the fridge open and shut. I get up and walk around the edge of the island, finding him standing near the stove with a bottle of beer to his lips. When he sees me, he drops it and holds open his arms. I walk toward him slowly then wrap my arms around his waist and rest the side of my head against his chest. “She always does this,” he says as his cheek rests against my hair and he pulls in a deep breath.
“Does what?” I ask, not moving.
“Shows when the boys and I have had enough time to forget she even exists.” I cringe from the harshness in his voice. “It’s like she can smell that we’re happy and can’t handle it, so she comes to fuck shit up.”
“She can only mess things up if you let her, Gareth. And she didn’t seem so bad.”
“Babe, she was nice to you outside, probably because she was caught off guard by seeing you with us.” Nice? That was her being nice? Yikes. “Just promise to stick this out with me and the boys. She’s never around for very long.”
I tip my head back, forcing him to move his head, and frown up at him. “Do you think she’s going to scare me off?”
“I think she’ll try,” he replies gently, setting down his beer so he can capture my face with both his hands. “In her mind, me and the boys belong to her.”
“I’m a Mayson, Gareth Black. I know I’m not adventurous or very outgoing, but I’m still a Mayson.” His brows draw together, and I lift my hand to rub away the lines etched between them. “Family, love, devotion, and determination are what I grew up seeing all around me. I know what’s important. I know why it’s important. And I understand that sometimes, even when it’s scary, you have to do everything within your power to protect it. I love you.” I say and watch as his pupils dilate on the word love. “I’m not worried about me, or even you. I’m worried about what her being here will mean for the boys. Neither of them knows how to deal with her presence. Mitchell is angry with her, probably because he loves her and wishes that she loved him enough to stick around, and Max is torn, because he likes me and feels like he’s betraying his mom by feeling that way.”
“Seems you know my boys,” he says tenderly.
I melt farther against him and slide my hands up to rest against his chest. “They’re just like you. All you have to do is read between the lines to know what they’re thinking or feeling.” I tip my head to the side and ask, “She’s picking Max up from school tomorrow?”
“Yeah.” He leans back against the counter, keeping hold of my waist with one hand while using the other to pick his beer back up and take a swig.
“What about Mitchell?”
“I’ll talk to him and see if he’s down with her picking him up. If not then I can still have Mom grab him after practice, so you won’t have to deal with Beth.”
“What do you mean?”
“She’s staying at one of the local hotels, so after she gets Max, she’ll come back here with him.”
“Oh.” I chew the inside of my cheek, not sure how I feel about her being here in the house that has started to feel like a second home to me.
“I don’t like it any more than you do, baby, but I don’t want Max hanging out in a hotel room every day after school for however long she’s here for.”
“I get it.” And I do get it logically. It’s the illogic part of my brain, the part that contains irrational emotions like jealousy, that doesn’t like it much at all.
“It won’t be for very long.”
“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” I ask, only half joking.
“Probably both of us,” he admits.
I smile and lean up on my tiptoes, touching my mouth to his. “Like you always say, it will be okay.”
“Yeah.” He squeezes my hip. “How much work do you have to do tonight?”
“Not much, I just have a few tests to grade, and they shouldn’t take me more than an hour.”
“I’ll finish up dinner while you get started on them,” he says, and I start to laugh. “What’s funny?”
“Dinner’s done—well, mostly anyway. The meatloaf has to finish cooking, and I need to mix up some ketchup and Worcestershire sauce to go on it before it comes out. But besides that, we should be able to eat in about fifteen minutes.”