Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
“What about it?”
That immediate emotion I’d felt after I was sick threatened to burst forth again. I swallowed hard around the lump in my throat and choked out, “It was my mum’s favorite song. When I was about twelve or so, she would play it constantly. We’d dance in the kitchen to it, shouting the lyrics at the top of our voices. And she would … it was like she was—” My voice broke, and I blinked rapidly to stop the tears, but it only caused them to flow over.
Baird tugged me closer as I swiped at them.
“It … It was like she was singing the lyrics at me. Like she was telling me what she wanted to say but couldn’t. That’s what it was like with her for so long. One minute she’d make me believe there was a mum in there who did love me but just didn’t know how to show it. Then she’d rip it all away and I’d feel hopeless again. Worthless.”
He stopped us, pulling me back into his arms as I cried quietly, soaking his shirt all over again.
“It’s s-so s-st-stupid. I’m th-thirty y-years o-old. It … it sh-shouldn’t still hu-hurt like this.”
“It’s not stupid, My. You could be eighty and this would still hurt. A mum is supposed to protect their child. To put their kid first. If she was here in front of me, I might fucking kill her.”
I gripped tighter to his shirt, turning my cheek so I could speak, trying to calm my tears. “That’s the second time I’ve heard that s-song and re-reacted like that. S-so weird.”
“It’s triggering panic attacks.”
Gently, I pushed away from him. “I-I don’t think it’s a panic attack.”
“Babe.” Baird reached down to swipe his thumb over my cheek and I saw black on it. Mascara. Damn it, I probably looked like a raccoon. “I know a panic attack when I see one.”
I frowned. “But why just that song? I’ve never had a panic attack about anything else.”
“Because …” He bent his head toward mine, expression gentle. “The song represents all the complicated feelings you have about your mum. It’s the thing that hurts most—that she could have loved you the way you needed her to, but she chose not to.”
My mouth trembled as fresh tears sprang free. He was so wise. I nodded.
Baird tried to catch the tears with his thumbs, his expression almost agonized. Like my pain was his pain. “You deserve so much better, Maia.”
“Bear …”
He wiped my cheeks again and pressed a firm kiss to my forehead. “Let’s get you home, beautiful. I’ll make you a cup of tea and some toast. That’ll help.”
I snuggled into his side, confused by my tumultuous emotions but grateful to him. “Thank you for taking care of me.”
His response was gravelly with emotion. “You never have to thank me for that. It’s my privilege, Maia.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
BAIRD
The air felt sticky and heady, the humidity so high the lads and I had all discarded our training shirts within the first five minutes. Sweat lashed off us and we were constantly stopping to hydrate.
Usually there was a comfort in the familiar shouts between my team. The sound of the coaching assistants’ whistles. The laughter and the filthy jokes. The smell of deodorant and sweat and fruity electrolyte sport drinks. When I was younger, it was the smell of grass that made me feel at home. But now the turf was a hybrid mix of natural grass and synthetic for better durability. It didn’t smell like the pitches I grew up on.
The pitch wasn’t the reason I didn’t feel at home here lately.
It was strange being here without John.
A hard smack on my shoulder drew me out of my daze, and I turned to find Callan at my side, so drenched in sweat, he looked like he’d just showered. We all did.
“I miss him too.”
Fuck.
He was a good pal, Callan. Nothing got by him.
“Aye.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “Place doesn’t feel the same.”
“Agreed.”
“He’s doing all right, though. Braden called me this morning about an issue with planning rights. I sent John to go see what’s up. I think he’s surprised by how much he’s getting into it.”
Callan took a swig of his sports drink. Once he swallowed, he nodded. “Good. Maybe he’ll stay.”
“I hope so.”
“Is that the only thing bothering you this morning?”
I avoided my mate’s perceptive gaze. “Just gearing myself up for this afternoon. Got another video shoot for the Pennington’s campaign.”
“You don’t sound excited.”
“Oh, aye, it’s my life’s dream.”
Callan snorted. “I don’t think any of us expected this thing to take off like it did.”
Certainly not me. I mean, I thought it might grow some legs, but it had grown arms and legs and extra heads. The kiss I’d shared with Maia in the club last week had gone viral after people posted it online. Pennington’s were salivating over how invested people seemed to be in our romance already.