Total pages in book: 169
Estimated words: 162138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 811(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 811(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
“Let’s say some miracle happens and I do get back on the ice,” I say. “I’d be done around the same time your season is starting.”
“How do you know?”
I cock my head. “Come on, Lyla James.”
“You’re insane.” She laughs as she starts picking up the bloody bandages and used tape. “What are you going to do, travel with me?”
“That’s exactly what we’d do. You’ll travel with me and I’ll travel with you.”
“Lach,” she says in a voice that asks me to be realistic. I don’t like it.
“We’ll ‘put a pin on this,’” I say, smiling when she rolls her eyes.
“Fine.” She gets out of bed and walks to the bathroom. I stand up and follow her.
I cross my arms and lean against the door frame. “Have you spoken to your dad?”
She looks at my reflection as she turns off the faucet and dries her hands. “He texted.”
“And?”
“He wants us to go over.”
She walks over and stands in front of me, her back against the other side of the frame. Personally, I don’t want to see her father at all, but if she wants to go, I’ll support her decision and go with her.
“Do you want to go?”
“I. . .” She covers her face with both hands and rubs her eyes. “It’s complicated.”
“Tell me.” I reach out and gently grab her wrists, lowering her hands from her face.
“I haven’t been inside the house since my mom died.”
I blink. “At all?”
“At all.” She bites her lip and averts her gaze for a moment before meeting my eyes again. “I wasn’t living there at the time. I moved to the guest house afterwards, not because I wanted to be anywhere near the house or my dad, but because. . .” She bites her lip again and looks away. I grab her face and turn it to me.
“Tell me.” I run the pad of my thumb over her cheek.
“I don’t know. I couldn’t be around my teammates anymore. They were so sweet and really supportive, but I couldn’t do that to them. I went to the guest house for a night because I needed to get away, and one night turned into a year and a half, and then Marissa convinced me to go to the apartment.”
“And you never went into the house afterwards?”
She shakes her head. “Not even for a glass of water. I had everything I needed and whatever I didn’t have, I’d have delivered or pick up when I drove to school and back.”
“Are you sure you’re ready to go back now?”
“I am.” She gives a decisive nod.
“Because he’s no longer a threat?” I ask.
“Because you’d be with me,” she says quietly.
My chest squeezes again. She was numb when I met her, closed off to everyone, and somehow, she let me in. Somehow, she decided to put her trust in me. Me. I’m going to spend the rest of my life protecting this woman. I dip my face down and kiss her deeply, my heart beating uncontrollably as she leans into me. When I pull away, I set my forehead against hers.
“I love you so fucking much,” I breathe.
“I know,” she says, and I pull away fully, only because I hear the smile in her voice and I need to see it, need to experience it for myself. I’m glad I do, because that smile is everything.
CHAPTER 60
LYLA
Dad’s holding a drink in his hand when he opens the door for us. He looks rough — red eyes, dark bags under them, and a disheveled shirt. I reach for Lachlan’s hand and link the lower part of our fingers so I don’t hurt him. It’s hard enough for me to step foot in this house, but it’ll be worse if Dad starts crying again.
“Just so we’re clear,” Lachlan says before we walk in. “I don’t think you deserve a second of her time.”
“I agree, which is why I’m so grateful she’s here at all.” Dad steps back to give us space.
At first, I try to keep my eyes on the massive dual staircase past the grand foyer, but my eyes drift off to the side anyway. My breath catches, but the awful couch I was attacked on isn’t here. He replaced it. I let out a breath and loosen my grip on Lach’s fingers. The house still has the distinct smell of the purple product the cleaning ladies use on the floor. Dad shuts the door behind us, and I let go of Lachlan’s hand as we head to the kitchen, where all conversations happen. We settle into the informal dining space.
“Can I get you a drink?” Dad asks, looking at each of us.
“What are you drinking?” Lach asks.
“Bourbon.”
“I’ll have some bourbon then.”
“I’ll have the same,” I say, as Dad walks away. I smile at the amusement in Lachlan’s eyes. “What? I like bourbon.”