Total pages in book: 199
Estimated words: 200280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1001(@200wpm)___ 801(@250wpm)___ 668(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 200280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1001(@200wpm)___ 801(@250wpm)___ 668(@300wpm)
Like a silent sentinel or something.
A guardian. A protector. A warden.
Who watches over things without letting anyone know that he’s there.
Which is what he did yesterday; again, something my brother told me when he came to pick me up today.
After Ledger told me all the things, things that I never could’ve imagined in my wildest dreams, he left.
He simply left me there.
And if I hadn’t been so shocked and stunned and fucking floored by what he’d revealed, I probably would’ve stopped him. I don’t know what I would’ve said to him though because it was a lot to process, all the information that he dumped on me. But yeah, I would’ve stopped him.
I would’ve somehow kept him there, in the room with me.
Probably to make sure that it was real and I hadn’t dreamed him up.
“If you still think that my brother controls any aspect of my life whatsoever, then I don’t know what to tell you,” I say, looking him in the eyes. “And while they were discharging me, my brother was in the parking lot, bringing the car around so he could pick me up at the front entrance. And since the doctor told me that I needed to go home and rest, I told my brother to bring me here.”
“Here,” he says, staring back at me.
“Yup.” I nod again. Then, “But fair warning: I need constant care right now. Foot rubs, back massages, belly rubs. Carrying twins is hard. I’m only twenty-eight weeks, but I look so huge. Plus I’m clumsy and —”
“You’re not huge,” he interrupts.
“That’s very sweet of you to say but —”
“Or clumsy.”
I give him a look. “You always thought I was when I wore my heels.”
“I was an asshole.”
“Was?”
“Am.”
My lips twitch. “People move away from me on the street because they think I’m ready to pop any second now.”
“People are assholes too.”
I stare up at him and he stares down.
I’m the first to break my silence. “And I need guac and chips twenty-four seven. So you have to stock up on that. And this amazing mango passionfruit juice I found at the store a few weeks back. I need you to stock up on that too. But first, as I said, this is the wrong bed and —”
“No.”
“What?”
Grinding his teeth, he watches me for a few seconds. “Absolutely fucking not.”
“Absolutely fucking not what?”
“You’re not staying here.”
“I —”
“That’s what this is, isn’t it? You barging in here like this is your house and —”
“This is my house.”
“Yeah, how do you figure?”
“Because you live here.”
One sharp breath later, he growls, “This is because of yesterday, isn’t it? This is because of what I said.”
“And if it is?”
“Then, you’re —”
“I’m what?” I cut him off, stepping toward him.
Clenching his teeth, he automatically steps back.
I advance on him nonetheless. “I’m what, Ledger? Say it. I dare you to say it to me, insult me when I’m pregnant.” His back clashes with the wall and I am here, trapping him with my pregnant body. “Not with one but two freaking babies. Because you can’t do things half-measure, can you? Because you just had to go and put two babies in me in one shot. Because your stupid freaking sperm is super fertile and a menace.”
He raises his hands up in a ‘calm down’ gesture. “Look, I wasn’t kidding yesterday. I wasn’t…” He sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face again. “I’m all fucked up, you understand? I’m all twisted up and ugly on the inside and I don’t know if I’ll ever be…”
My heart is clenching and clenching for him. “Ever be what?”
He swallows, his eyes even more vulnerable than they were yesterday.
Vulnerable and molten and shiny with everything inside of him.
“Normal,” he rasps.
My heart aches so much in this moment that I don’t know how I’m not screaming from the pain. How I’m not hunching over with it. How does he not know that he’s killing me in this moment.
“I don’t know if I’ll ever be,” he swallows again, “not fucked up. Not selfish. I don’t know if I’ll ever be like those heroes you read about. In fact, I know I won’t be. I can’t be. It’s not something that —”
“You are right.” His breath breaks at my declaration, but I keep going. “I don’t know if you’ll ever be like the guys I read about. And yes, you hurt me. You make me cry. You break my heart. You make me want to smack you and punch you and be angry at you. But you don’t do that by being who you are. You do that, Ledger, by being who you aren’t. You do that by denying who you are. By denying the things that you want. By being afraid.
“You are, aren’t you? That’s what you told me. That you’re afraid of people leaving you, people abandoning you. You’re afraid to go through the same pain that you went through when you were a kid and that’s why you did all those things. Hurting me, keeping me away, clinging to lies and excuses. So I’m here to tell you something.”