Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 121310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
"Anna," he says, voice low, coaxing. "What is Mads so afraid of?"
I flinch, not because I don't know, but because I do.
"She's afraid you won't ever really love her," I whisper.
He exhales sharply, his fingers flexing on the table like he wants to reach for me but isn't sure if he should. "That's not true."
I look down at my hands, where I've crumpled the sugar packet into something unrecognizable. "Maybe not. But she believes it is."
Connie reappears, setting down two steaming cups of coffee and two plates with golden slices of apple pie. Neither of us moves to touch them.
Domhnall leans forward, his forearms braced on the table. "And what about you?"
I hesitate, reaching for the warm ceramic mug in front of me. "What about me?"
Does he mean what am I afraid of? I'm afraid of everything. I'm afraid of my nightmares. I'm afraid of my memories. I'm scared that when I wake up each morning, I won't find myself by his side anymore. I'm afraid I'll lose this amazing new life. I'm terrified of what a little weakling I am.
But instead, Domhnall asks, "What do you want, Anna?"
The words land like a blow, unexpected and too direct. I never think about what I want. It feels too dangerous to dare.
My breath hitches, and I press my palms flat against the warm ceramic of my mug, grounding myself. My therapist tells me to pay attention to my body when I don't have the words. So I do.
There's a tightness in my chest, a weight between my ribs. A held breath that I didn't even realize I was holding.
But Donny's asking, so maybe for him, I'll try. Just this once.
"I want…" I close my eyes, feeling the warmth seep into my hands. Let the sensation anchor you. "I want what I always wanted—family. And to feel safe. I want to know I don't have to earn love by being careful. I don't always want to be the one who fixes everything." My voice wobbles, and I take a shaky breath. "I want to be wanted for who I am, not just because I make things easier."
Domhnall doesn't speak right away. He just watches me, his gaze heavy with something unreadable. Then, slowly, he reaches across the table, his fingers curling around mine.
"You have family now," he says, his voice rough. "You have me. I love you, Anna."
I swallow hard. "I know you love me. I do. But sometimes, I wonder if you love me because—because I'm this shard from your past, that's chaos, that you just hold onto out of habit." Then I tell the last, absolute truth out of the worst of my fears. "Because you feel guilty."
His grip tightens. "That's not it."
"Then what is it?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
He exhales, his thumb stroking over the back of my hand. "Yes, I love you because no matter where life has taken us, you've been there—woven into every part of my past, my present, my fucking soul. You taught me what the word love means. But I also love you because you see me. The real me. You let me be the man I always wanted to be." He exhales. "You aren't just someone who fits into my world, Anna. You are my world."
Tears prick at the back of my eyes, and I squeeze his hand like it's the only thing keeping me here, in this moment.
"I want to believe that." My voice trembles.
"You don't have to believe it all at once," he murmurs. "Just start with this." He lifts our joined hands slightly. "With me. Right here."
I stare at him for a long moment, something fragile cracking open inside straight down the center of me. I want everything he says, but hope is still so… strange. So foreign to me. But Domhnall is real, and for now, I'm staying grounded in my body, here with him.
Maybe, for now, that's enough.
I finally dig into the pie, and my eyes close at how fucking delicious it is. Oh my god, I've lived all over the world, and nobody does pie like here in Texas. The streusel crumble on top, the sweet apples, the perfect pastry crust. I sink into the pie between sips of hot coffee that Connie comes over to refill so it's constantly fresh. The bite of the black coffee's bitterness against the sweetness of the pie is absolute perfection.
When I glance over at Domhn, it's to find his pie untouched, his eyes on me.
I'd feel embarrassed, but there's a last bite of my pie left to enjoy, so I stick it in my mouth with absolute abandon.
"We're taking my piece to go," Domhn growls. "I want to watch you eat it at home."
I giggle as I wash down the pie with the last of my coffee. "Don't be ridiculous." I wipe my mouth with my napkin. "It's a sin not to enjoy that fucking pie."