Total pages in book: 50
Estimated words: 48446 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 242(@200wpm)___ 194(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48446 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 242(@200wpm)___ 194(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)
“Yes.”
“And how long was that?”
“Maybe ten minutes or so.”
“Poor kid.” Those minutes must’ve seemed like a lifetime to Micah.
She nodded. “Yes. He hasn’t uttered a word since.”
“He laughs, though.”
“Yes. He laughs and cries and sneezes and coughs. It’s not physical or medical. He simply won’t speak. And we’ve tried hypnosis, we’ve tried—I mean, my husband and me, before he bailed with the nanny—we tried everything.”
Her eyes filled and her breath caught, and instinctively, I hugged her, gently pressing her to my heart and patting her back. “Any man that leaves his children is good for nothing, you hear me? A man can walk out on his wife, or his husband, and be forgiven, but a man who leaves his children ain’t one. I suspect he will come cryin’ back to you once he figures out the nanny ain’t half the woman you are. When he comes back, you got yourself a decision to make.”
She clung tight, breathing me in. “God, Weber, I so get why Cy’s in—”
“Lyn!” he barked.
“Oh,” she whimpered, “I have not been held like this in forever.”
I tilted her head up so she could see my face. “I am so sorry to hear that. Bein’ held is one of the best parts of havin’ a mate, ain’t it?”
“It should be, yes.” She wiped her eyes and stepped away from me.
“Okay,” I said, “so now I understand. Micah didn’t save his grandmother, so he feels like he failed.”
“Yes.” She was crying again. “That’s exactly what his therapist thinks.”
“He feels he could have done somethin’.”
She nodded.
“Okay.” I exhaled, then turned away from her and yelled, “I’m coming back in there, and there better not be anybody in my bed!”
Squeals of laughter followed, and Lyn said, “Jesus, Weber, I know I said this before, but they’re totally in love.”
“He’s addictive,” Cy said under his breath, but I heard him.
“I’m coming!” I yelled again.
I left the kitchen, and when I got to the bedroom, even Tristan was under the covers, the bed moving so hard it looked like it was rolling under the comforter. I lay down, complained about how lumpy the bed was, as the laughter got louder and louder. When I threw the comforter off and yelled aha! they all screamed at once. Diving down in slow motion, I made sure to miss them completely. They all piled on top of me once I was sprawled out, and the bed was a disaster area after that. We only stopped horsing around when Cy called us all out for breakfast.
Luckily for me, Cyrus had washed, dried, and folded all my clothes before I woke up, so I had something clean to wear. But that wasn’t enough, apparently, because he wanted me to agree to let him pick me up a few things.
“Like?” I asked, watching him shove clothes into an overnight bag for the weekend.
“Underwear,” he teased me. “T-shirts, socks. You love to run. What are you planning to run in while you’re here? I didn’t find any shorts or joggers. You don’t even have any shoes other than your boots, which have holes in them.”
“My running shoes gave up the ghost last month, and I haven’t had money to replace ’em. But you’re sure you didn’t see no shorts?”
He squinted at me. “You think I somehow missed them?”
That wasn’t likely. There wasn’t a lot in that backpack at the moment. I’d been a bit thinner than usual money-wise lately. Even small, simple things had been beyond my budget. “Well, yanno, maybe I should just stay here while you all—”
“No. There’s a mall on the way out of town. Just don’t give me any crap and let me get you some staples, okay? Please.”
I shrugged. “As long as I can pay you back.”
“But if you pay me back, then we’re on your budget, not mine, and I hate that.”
“This is your only option,” I said flatly. “Either I keep the receipt so I know what I owe you, or we’re not goin’.”
“Why? Why do only you get a say?”
“Because I’m a goddamn grown-up, that’s why,” I snapped. “For crissakes, Cy, why are we even fightin’ about this?”
“Stop,” he snarled back, fuming. “You always do this. You always turn it into a money thing, and it’s not. This has nothing to do with money and everything to do with your stupid fucking pride.”
“You do not take care of me,” I told him, shaking my head. “I take care of me. Period.”
“No, not period,” he almost yelled, which surprised me.
He usually gave in, afraid I’d leave, and I played that card many a time, which, truthfully, wasn’t great, threatening him to get him to back down. But this time was different because of his sister and the boys. He knew he had me. I had given my word I’d help her, and my honor would never let me leave.