Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 157175 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157175 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
My heart rate rockets. ‘Ava? Ava, baby, what’s wrong?’
She yells, her body bending forward, like she’s trying to make herself small to protect her from something. What? Pain? Fuck, my heart’s going to fall at her feet any moment. ‘Ava, for fuck’s sake.’ I take the tops of her arms and bend, trying to get her face in my sights. And when I do, I hate what I see.
Her expression is agony, contorted with pain. Oh Jesus, something’s seriously wrong. Instinct steams forward and has me scooping her from her feet and running back to the house, set on calling an ambulance, a doctor, or maybe even racing her to the hospital myself.
‘Jesse, stop!’
Like she could have turned me off, my feet slow, and she wriggles from my arms, taking her hands back to her head and closing her eyes. ‘There’s too many.’ She balls her fists, obviously frustrated.
‘Too many what?’
‘Things. Things happening in my head.’
My heart that was racing only gathers more speed. Memories? Is she talking about memories?
‘Urhhhh!’ she yells, and bashes the side of her head. I move in, seizing her hands and pulling them away.
‘Stop,’ I demand, forcing her arms to her sides. ‘Just stop it!’ She looks up at me, squinting, her forehead wrinkled with the effort it’s taking her to think. ‘Take your time, baby.’ I pull her down to the grass and hold her hands, letting her have a moment to straighten out everything in her head. ‘Just take your time.’ I’m trying so hard not to get carried away. Trying desperately not to let my hope run away with me. ‘Tell me what you see.’
‘I don’t know, it’s all fuzzy.’ Her hands crush mine, her eyes wide and wild. ‘It’s you.’
Oh my God. My head drops back, and I look to the sky, thanking God for this breakthrough. ‘Where am I?’ I drop my sights back onto her, gently encouraging, moving in closer on my knees.
‘I don’t know, but you’re mad. Really mad.’
If it was appropriate, I’d laugh. ‘Ava, there are many times in our history that I’ve been crazy mad. You need to be a bit more specific.’
‘You can’t move.’
My forehead becomes heavy with my frown as I rack my brain for something that’ll clue me in on where she’s at. I have nothing.
‘Thirty.’ Looking up at me, she searches my face for anything to suggest I’m following. I’m not, and I feel awful that I can’t offer any insight. It’s cryptic. ‘Thirty,’ she repeats, now louder, and there’s a bit of excitement building. And then she’s quickly standing up, looking down at me, virtually shaking with exhilaration. I don’t know why. Thirty means nothing. Not being able to move means nothing. Together, they mean nothing. I flinch when she claps her hands, holding them together in front of her delighted face. ‘I’m thirty-fucking-seven!’ she wails. ‘You can’t move because you’re handcuffed to the bed! You’re thirty-fucking-seven!’
Jesus Christ. I breathe out, overcome, feeling like the sky is falling and blanketing me in pure, unrelenting happiness. It’s too overwhelming, and I plummet to my back on the grass, looking up to the heavens in gratitude.
‘I remembered something!’ She dives on top of me, grabbing my face and forcing me to look at her. ‘Not just words, but I saw you there! Going fucking ballistic!’ Her lips land on mine, kissing me hard.
Of all the things she remembers, it’s that. ‘Typical,’ I mutter, feigning sulkiness when I’m actually fucking ecstatic. ‘And watch your mouth, Ava.’ She’s dropped enough f-bombs in the past two minutes to kill me off.
‘I will not.’ Her lips leave mine, and her face appears above me, veiled by her damp locks. The smile on her face is enough to make a grown man weep. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. You’re thirty-fucking-seven!’
I fucking wish. ‘I hate to break it to you, baby, but I haven’t been thirty-fucking-seven for a long time.’
‘I don’t care.’ She blinks, once, twice, and then rapidly, stilling above me, her smile falling. ‘You were mad. And then I’m mad. Why was I mad?’
My lips press together when she casts her eyes back to mine. I know exactly why she was mad. ‘Maybe because you thought John freed me, when it was actually Sarah.’
‘Another woman saw you naked and handcuffed to the . . .’ She fades off, blinking again. ‘Wait, why am I handcuffed to the bed?’
Jesus, she’s suffering a serious bombardment. I reach for her left hand and lift it between us, pointing at her ring. Reminding her. ‘This, maybe?’ I already told her the story of my proposal. She forgot?
‘You can’t propose when I’m handcuffed to the bed!’ she sings, thrilled.
‘Wrong,’ I counter, and she looks at me, all care for the fact Sarah freed me gone. She’s smiling. ‘I could, I would, and I did.’