Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 131888 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131888 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
She needed to make sure he didn’t sneak out when she wasn’t looking.
Because he would.
And their conversation from the other night in the coffee shop parking lot wasn’t over with.
He thought it was.
He was wrong.
One by one, the group members sticking around long enough to snag a couple of her cookies, a bottle of water or a coffee to-go left until only Linda remained.
“Do you want me to help, Liyah?”
Liyah shook her head. “No, Nox and I have it under control.” She patted the woman’s shoulder. “Why don’t you head home and catch your little ones before they fall asleep?”
Linda laughed softly. “I wish they did fall asleep. I’m sure they’re sitting up with my mother watching a sitcom. Do you mind if I bring them a cookie?”
“Help yourself to the rest.” She was planning on sending some home with Mr. Grump, but she had another container in her car she could give him.
Who could be moody while eating chocolate chip cookies? Well, if anyone could, it would be Bradley Lennox.
She set her jaw as she made eye contact with the man standing on the other side of the room. He was as far as he could get from the refreshment table as he waited for Linda to leave before approaching.
After Linda gathered what cookies remained on the platter, she said, “See you next week. The new format is a nice change.”
She doubted the man with the jawline able to cut glass would agree.
The second she heard the door to the room click shut behind her, she turned and began to gather what remained on the table so they could fold it up and put it away.
The man could move as quietly as the ghosts that chased him since she felt his presence before she heard him.
He grabbed the almost empty box of coffee and lobbed it into the large rolling trash can sitting next to the table. She did the same with the disposable platter before tucking the remaining reusable items back into a plastic storage bin.
When she was done, she went to pick up the bin to put it away and he practically body-checked her to take it from her. Once he had a hold of it, he took long strides across the room and disappeared into the large closet.
While he put that away, she began to fold up the table next. Before she was through, he was there, again, nudging her out of the way. “You wanted me to help, let me fucking help.”
She threw up her hands. “Fine.” She was also tempted to yell, “Next!” but bit back that response. She shouldn’t lower herself to his level, but her frustration level with the man was high.
Really, she shouldn’t care enough to get frustrated. He shouldn’t be treated any differently than the rest of the group members.
If he didn’t want to participate, that was on him.
If he wanted to wallow in his own misery, she should let him.
If he never wanted to get better…
Shit. His brothers wanted him to get better. They cared.
Somebody loved him even if he didn’t love himself.
“You owe me an explanation,” she started.
He heaved the table up under his arm and began to beeline across the room. The man was impressively strong. “I don’t owe anyone anything.”
She followed with her lips pursed, checking out his bulging biceps and thickly-veined forearms as he carried the table. He’d be much more attractive if he had a personality to match. “You are always running from me.”
“Take that as a sign.”
“What, that you don’t like me?”
“Is this a popularity contest?”
“No. I run a group to help people like you. People like me. You’re too fucking pig-headed to let it do what it’s meant to do.”
“Boo-hooing about bullshit doesn’t help.”
She followed him into the large closet. “How would you know if you don’t let yourself deal with your loss?”
After he leaned the table against a shelf, she stumbled a step back when he spun on her. “Weren’t you the one who said that everyone deals with loss differently?”
Oh, he was getting angry? “You’re not dealing with it; you’re keeping it buried.”
“So fucking what? How does it affect you?”
“It doesn’t affect me. It affects you.”
“Then let me worry about it. Being a single mother with two boys probably keeps you busy. You don’t need to take on another project.”
“You’re a human with emotions, not a project.”
“You got the first part right, at least.”
“Oh, you have emotions, because you’re clearly annoyed right now. If you didn’t have any, you’d be a sociopath.”
He took a step closer, crowding her. “Maybe I am.”
She was tall for a woman, but he was taller. But when wearing heels, like she was tonight, she was basically eye-to-eye with him. “No, you’re not.”
“I thought you sold real estate, not did psychological evaluations.”
“You mask the pain. I know that because I did the same thing. I did it so I wouldn’t have to deal with it. You think you do it for self-preservation, but eventually it’ll backfire.”