Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80932 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80932 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
“I was actually hoping to go to the cemetery,” I say, shooting a glance at Dax as I had not told him before of my desire to do this. “Think I could borrow your car?”
“I’ll take you,” Dax says, smiling as he pulls the rental car keys out of his pocket and twirling them on his finger.
MaryBeth and Justin Miles share a headstone, their ashes mingled and interred together below it. I kneel in the dried grass browned by winter, brushing a few stray blades from the granite. Dax comes to stand beside me, close enough his leg brushes against me.
I was just fourteen when they died. Such a fragile age for a girl. Yet, Lance did an amazing job at making me feel safe and secure. I didn’t have to fear the future because I trusted in him to take care of me, which left me able to grieve my loss along with him.
“I’m not sure I ever really thanked Lance for all he did for me after they died,” I say quietly as I stare at the headstone.
“He knew,” Dax replies, squatting beside me.
I nod, hopeful he’s right. “I need to make arrangements for his ashes to be buried here.”
“I’ll help with that,” he replies, the strength in his voice infusing me. “Just tell me what you want, and I’ll handle it for you.”
I look over at him. “Thank you.”
He smiles, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind me ear. “It’s nothing to thank me for. It would be my honor because I loved him, too.”
“He loved you right back.” My nose stings, and I inhale a sniffle.
It’s enough to have Dax’s arm come around my shoulder, then he’s pulling me to my feet and wrapping me in an embrace. It reminds me of just over four weeks ago when we stood in Lance’s apartment and Dax pressed me to tell him what was wrong in my life. I had shred myself into a thousand tears in his arms. He made it so easy for me to let go and just grieve. I had been trying so hard to be strong and bear everything with dignity and grace, and in just a matter of moments, Dax let me fall apart. I know he would never let me completely shatter.
Standing here on my parents’ graves, having lost my brother not all that long ago, he makes it easy once again and I begin to weep. His arms tighten as I turn my face into his chest. Dax’s hand presses to the back of my head, a silent command to let it all out.
I do, trying not to worry about leaving a snot trail on his coat.
I snicker, then start laughing at the thought. Crying and laughing is a weird basket of emotions, and I decide to give in to more laughter since it’s the better of the two.
“What’s so funny?” he asks, and I can hear the amusement in his voice.
“I was just worried about leaving snot on your nice wool coat. I’m sure it’s expensive.”
“I’m sure the dry cleaners can get it out,” he replies dryly.
Giggling, I pull away to look up at him. His smile is soft as he gazes at me, and I almost melt when he wipes a tear from my face with his thumb, the chilly air turning my cheek frosty.
“I’m sorry I’m such a mess,” I say sincerely. I don’t like feeling weak or like I need to be cared for, yet this feeling of security he gives me feels too damn good to walk away from.
“Don’t apologize, Regan,” he replies in a low voice. “You’ve been through so much this past month. Lost a brother. Gained an unexpected husband. Faced an uncertain future without lifesaving medical care, moved to a different state. I don’t know many people who wouldn’t be a complete mess. Yet, you keep trucking along with such a positive attitude. I’m proud of you. If you decide to break down periodically in my arms, just consider it a husbandly service I’m glad to perform.”
“A service you were not looking to sign up for,” I point out. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to thank you enough for what you’ve done for me.”
Something flickers through Dax’s expression. An uncomfortable look, but it’s gone before I can even really analyze it. His lips curl up, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Oh, I don’t know. There’s been some benefits. Not exactly hard to hold a beautiful woman in my arms when she’s all soft, pliable, and susceptible to suggestion.”
I grin at him, blinking back the rest of my tears and sadness so I can tease him in return. “Yeah… not a hardship to be held by a totally hot and muscular man with what I’m guessing is a good eight to eight and a half inches of a pure pleasure machine.”