Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77842 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77842 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
I step past him, my legs wobbly and my heart broken. I walk down the hall to our room in a stupor, my stomach queasy, thinking about what just happened. My hand trails the side of the wall until I reach the bedroom door and shut it behind me. Did I just make this about Cam instead of Heston and me? I’m falling into that mind frame from when I was Cam and feel like I’m over reacting to something that might be just as simple as a slap.
24
“Good morning, beautiful.” Heston’s soft voice wakes me up. He didn’t sleep in our bed last night, but he obviously didn’t go far. The day before comes into mind, and all I want to do is hide. He stands beside the bed, my favorite cup in his hand. Sitting up, I take it, the smell of the delicious hot brew invigorating my senses.
He smiles, but it doesn’t quiet reach his eyes, our fight lingering between us.
“I’m not going anywhere, Rain.” My head looks up from coffee, our eyes meeting. He promises he won’t go anywhere and that seeds through my heart blooming in comfort. I never want to be alone again, but I’m pushing him away. Should I work this out with him? Am I going overboard over one slap? “You said you would marry me and that means we are together forever.” That last word battles what I was thinking seconds ago. He doesn’t sound romantic and passionate. He sounds like a madman. That no matter how dark it gets, we are bound to one another even if we’re only engaged.
Sitting down beside me, he grabs my hand and places it in his, interlocking our fingers. My brows furrow at the contact. All I see is my hand entwined with the one that hit me.
Lifting our linked palms, he kisses my knuckles, peering up at me, his eyes kind, remorseful.
“I’m so sorry about yesterday,” he whispers softly. I inhale a harsh breath. his small step into apologizing causing me to inhale. I want him to be sorry, but there is something in me that won’t forget what happened. No matter what he does. What happened, happened.
“I really think we need some time apart, Heston,” is all I can muster. All of the dark moments Heston has showed here and there are coming together, and I don’t know how much worse he’ll get.
“No,” he clips, and tears fill my eyes.
“I’ve never done that before, hit somebody I’m with. You just do something to me, Rain. You and Paige are my life. The thought of losing you undoes me,” he explains, my emotions battling a sea of anger and love. The urge to be angry at him swims against a current of affection. All the times we laughed, touched, simply laid next to each other and heard one another breathe and exist, reminding me how much I love him. I swear I have a gift making men into monsters because Heston was anything but not a bad man when we got together.
“My mother hit me a lot. Even as an adult, she would put her hands on me if she felt moved to do so. I always swore I’d never be like her, but here I am.” He stares blankly ahead as he mentally revisits the painful memories. This bit of information about his mother is new to me, pushing me into thinking about a little boy with blond hair getting smacked around by a grown woman. It tugs at my heart strings, and I feel bad for him, but I can’t help but be concerned this will happen again. This is how it started with Cam, a smack or push here, until I started wearing bruises and excuses as my daily outfit.
“Hmm,” I softly say to him, and his eyes snap to mine. I don’t want to show him I feel bad for him, to encourage him that his behavior is justified. I don’t know, maybe he’s right about sticking it out, my being so quick to run away from our problems isn’t how relationships work. I’ve read he is my better half and I am his.. That’s how we become a whole. Closing my eyes, my mind screams that this is bullshit and I need to demand him to leave but I know he won’t go. Literally he won’t leave. His words ammo to my anger. I want to work things out; I do, but I’m scared. I’m scared he'll he hit me or Paige, but I’m also terrified of being alone. I come with baggage and he’s dealt with mine. I should deal with his, right? It sounds like Heston has PTSD, maybe some therapy would help. Thinking about being rational versus headstrong, I fixate on the glass end table, the top scratched from drinks, phone cords, and the lamp being shuffled back and forth along it.