Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 138642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
“Unfortunately.” He stands and his bulk takes up so much space in the tiny office, delightfully overwhelming. It’s a miracle he doesn’t have to stoop to fit the low ceiling. Hazel eyes soften as he looks down at me. “But there’s always tonight.”
“I guess there is.” I shouldn’t be so giddy knowing I get to go home to him when the whole reason is some weirdo stalker hurling death threats. But I smile anyway, tilting my head up and pursing my lips. “Kiss me goodbye.”
“I just got your lipstick off me and you’re still this bossy?”
“I’ve hardly got any left at this point. You’re safe.”
Grant chuckles, then bends and brushes his mouth across mine.
The hurricane is gone.
This is a soft, sweet breeze full of promises. But there’s nothing chaste about the way my body lights up at the lightest touch.
I catch myself leaning into him as he straightens, drawn like he’s a human magnet and I’m all iron. Before I pull back, I clear my throat, smoothing my clothing.
He catches a lock of my hair and tweaks it. “Go shopping and get yourself a better coat. I’m taking you and Nell out tonight.”
“Where?”
“Nothing special. Just dinner and an age-appropriate movie.”
But it is special when it’s you and me—when it’s us, I think.
Of course, I keep that to myself, only smiling brighter.
“You just want to take my mind off everything.”
“Maybe I do,” he says, absolutely serious.
It’s so Grant.
So many little things, the way he tells me I’m important with such subtle gestures. Maybe dinner and a movie isn’t much to most girls, but it’s Grant Faircross wanting to spend time with me, wanting to help me forget the myriad ways life keeps going wrong.
It’s Grant showing me he cares.
For now, that’s enough to leave me quiet with a thousand feelings flopping around as he bends to kiss my cheek one more time, then tucks my hair back with one last long look before turning to go.
My knees still feel hilariously weak from that first kiss.
Oh, this is bad.
I’m in big trouble and I don’t think I care.
I wish I could hold on to that feeling.
But by the time I pick up my newly repaired rental car from Mort’s, I’m already dreading the short drive across town.
That cold feeling becomes a lump of frozen lead as I step into the medical center.
The nurses at the front desk just wave me through.
No need to check the hometown girl, I guess. It’s one of the rare times when I wish everyone in this small town didn’t know my business, just so they’d stall me for a minute or two, making me sign the visitor register or something.
Anything to delay the inevitable—seeing Mom in that bed again.
I’m already an emotional mess by the time I get to her room.
Yes, I want to be with her, to comfort her, to hope that my presence will help her fight to a miraculous recovery, knowing her girls are waiting for her—but I also can’t stand how frail she looks, like a skeleton that hasn’t remembered to stop breathing yet.
I can’t stand that she’s still not waking up.
This doesn’t feel like a restful sleep. More like the precursor to the very end.
With a deflated sigh, I sit next to her bed and clasp her thin, bony hand. With my free hand, I stroke back the wisps of blonde hair left so dry by the chemo and other drugs they’re pumping into her system to keep her alive.
“I’m not ready,” I whisper, pulling her hand against my chest. “I’m not ready to lead this family, Mom. Ros is a mess. I think she’s making a big mistake and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to help her, how to help you...”
My voice cracks.
I can’t hold in the tears anymore as this chill rakes down my spine. I squeeze my mother’s hand, trying to be strong for her, trying not to shake.
Not strong enough to stop the torrent.
I cry.
Quietly. Secretly. Intensely.
Sobbing over her fingers until they’re wet, sucking in heaving breaths, barely managing to creak out words that feel like angry porcupines.
“I miss you.”
I can’t deny it any longer.
As much as I might blame Redhaven for my brother’s disappearance, I’ve missed this place, too.
Miami never totally felt like home. Just a distant place to escape to.
Home is here.
Home is with my family.
With Mom and Ros.
With Grant.
But right now, I feel so alone.
For just a breath, my heart leaps.
There’s movement. A subtle twitching against my fingers.
I sit up sharply, staring down at the hand clasped in my own. My mother’s fingers curl feebly, just barely there, but unmistakable.
“Mom?” I stare at her hopefully, my heart threatening to burst, scrubbing at the tears on my cheeks. “Mom, are you awake?”
She doesn’t move.
No sound at all.
Not even an eyelash flutter.
But her hand grips mine like a ghost.