Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 26224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
Would Knox want me in his life, too? Would this baby connect us forever?
I must not have shaken my entire naivete, because I desperately hope so. I can’t imagine a life without Knox in it, as horrible and destructive as that sounds. We connected, though, didn’t we? Deeply? It couldn’t all have been make-believe.
The weight of missing him certainly isn’t a dream.
Happy voices carry down the hallway to my room, telling me our guests have arrived. I have no choice but to go down and participate in my own birthday, even though my heart is in pieces.
With a deep breath, I open my bedroom door, pasting a smile on my face as I enter the kitchen and greet everyone. Hugging my aunt, uncle and grandma. My mother seems to know I’m not one hundred percent myself, because she mouths are you okay at me three separate times. I nod in response, hoping to reassure her. Hoping to reassure myself, too.
I distract myself by helping my mother take the chicken noodle casserole out of the oven. It was my favorite meal as a child and she continues to make it for me every single birthday, even though my palate has evolved. It’s tradition, though, and it comforts me now. The six of us sit down at the long table beneath the antler chandelier, my uncle and father deep in discussion about cattle prices.
I’m scooping servings of casserole onto everyone’s plates when there’s a knock at the door. My uncle stops talking and everyone’s head whips toward the door.
“Who could that be?” my mother asks, raising an eyebrow at me.
“I have no idea,” I say honestly, setting down the serving spoon. “I’ll go see.”
I’m halfway to the door when awareness warms the skin of my neck, my cheeks. My pulse begins to speed, my steps a tad clumsy. We did invite Knox Morgan to my dinner birthday, but he didn’t actually show up. Right?
After I told him I never wanted to see or speak to him again?
Please be here. Please be him.
I’m flushed and incapable of breathing as I open the door, a small sound bubbling from my mouth when I find Knox looking down at me from the other side of the threshold.
He doffs his hat, his breath hissing out of him like a rush of escaping helium.
Those weary, dark green eyes race to take me in, top to bottom.
I do much the same with him, I’m sure. How could I not when he looks so gorgeous in jeans and a button-down shirt, face shaved, hair still wet from a shower?
“Billie, my God…” He shakes his head. “You look fucking beautiful.”
“You look beautiful, too,” I whisper, without thinking. You’re supposed to be angry at him. No, I am still angry. He was horrible to me the last time we were together.
I shake my hair back with a sniff.
“What are you doing here?” I say quietly, not wanting my family to overhear. “I told you I never wanted to see you again.”
“Yes, you did. And you had every right.” He grips the frame of the door and leans toward me, his intense gaze running laps around my face. “I should be condemned to hell for the way I treated you.”
My heart slams into my ribcage. “Yes, you should.”
His swallow is loud. “If it makes you feel better, hell is exactly how it has been without you. Every hour feels like a year, knowing you’re not coming to see me. That you’re not going to waltz into my house like you own the place and turn me upside down.”
I don’t have a chance to respond to that, because my mother materializes at my side, gasping when she sees who it is. “Mr. Morgan! I wasn’t sure you’d really come.” She splits a look between me and Knox, who is still staring at me hard. “Please. Come on in and we’ll fix you a plate.”
His chest dips and he nods once. “Thank you, ma’am.”
My mother rushes back into the kitchen, presumably to gather a plate and cutlery.
Knox, meanwhile, steps right into my space, forcing me to tilt my head back.
“Happy birthday,” he says roughly, looking at my mouth.
“Don’t even think about it,” I whisper, goosebumps lifting on every inch of my skin.
“Think about what?”
“Kissing me.”
He drags his bottom lip through his teeth. “Kissing you is all I think about, Billie.”
My word. “Is that so?” I whisper, my voice unsteady. “W-well it’s my birthday. I’m getting presents, not the other way around.”
“For now, getting to be near you is enough.”
I gasp, pushing him in the chest a little. “Stop that.”
He presses into my hands, like they’re shock paddles and he needs them to live. “Stop what, sweetheart?”
Sweetheart. “Being romantic when I’m mad at you.”
Knox grins down at me and I’m instantly mesmerized, swaying closer to him. Has he ever smiled like that before? With crinkles in the corners of his eyes and all his teeth showing? I knew he was a handsome devil, but this is outrageous.