Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 128156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
The eagerness in her voice, the way she talks about spending time with her grandfather, how she has family again and she’ll get to learn about her mother—it kills me. My insides literally ache.
I should have done this sooner, and I don’t know if that’s why the guilt is eating at me or if it’s a bit of everything. I should have handled this before she even packed her bag, the moment I walked out of that damn office after I handed them that blood money.
Do it now. Rip the fucking Band-Aid off. Tell her what’s going on.
She smiles at me over her shoulder, and the sledgehammer comes down on my chest.
Can’t do it. I can’t ruin this for her.
Or maybe I’m just a coward.
The words feel like they choke me, the weight of everything pressing in, making it harder to breathe.
I want to groan, to bury my face in my hands and yank on my hair, but I don’t.
I keep it all in, something I’ve gotten really good at over the last couple of years.
It’s all I can do to hold on to the pieces of this that still make sense, but at the end of the day, she doesn’t need me to ruin this for her.
My gaze is glued to her, following as she bounces around, double-checking things she’s already checked just in case she forgot anything. It’s torture.
It takes everything in me to keep my emotions in check, to lock that wall and put up that barrier so she can’t see what’s happening inside of me.
“Oh!” She snaps her fingers, and a small chuckle manages to slip from my lips as I watch her drop to her knees and crawl half under her bed, pulling out a little box full of what looks like hair stuff. She starts digging through it, quietly humming to herself, and I force myself to look away, the sight too precious, too painful.
Only, when I do, my gaze lands on something I’ve never seen before.
I slowly push to my feet, reaching out for the photo on her dresser, and I feel my lungs squeeze. It’s the first time I’ve let myself touch something that belongs to her since I walked in, and it just so happens that not only does the photo belong to her but so does the man that’s in it.
Me.
It’s a photo of her and me, one that I’ve never seen and didn’t even know existed, and now that I’m looking at it, I wonder if I have one of us together at all.
My fingers skate across her pretty face and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself in check. With a small peek back at her, I slowly slide it into my pocket.
I’m well aware I have no right to take this. I shouldn’t. But it may very well be the only thing that keeps me going the next few weeks. I have to have it.
She pops up then, setting the things she snagged into the little front pocket of her still-open carry-on, then flips it shut, quickly zipping it closed. Her hands find her tiny hips, and she smiles through a sigh.
“All ready to go?” I force myself to say, trying to sound normal.
She laughs, nodding her head. “I think so.”
And then she squeals, running right at me and throwing herself in my arms.
Thank god for the sound she makes because it covers the broken noise that tears up my throat, and I allow myself to be weak, wrapping my arms around her, holding her as close as possible.
“I’m so excited, but I’m going to miss you!” She hugs me back just as tight.
My eyes burn and I will myself not to lose it. Not to say it all and tell her everything—or not to do the opposite and shatter her big, beautiful heart right here and now with the truth.
Somehow, I manage to pull away and busy myself by taking her bags and leading us from the room to the elevator and out of the dorm. Me for the very last time.
The black car is parked against the curb, the man standing beside it already reaching for the suitcases.
We seem to turn toward each other at the exact same moment, and she hugs me again.
“I’ll see you soon. And we’ll talk every day.” Those baby blues pop up to meet my gaze, and my knuckles tremble as I run them down her cheek, holding her face between my sweaty palms.
“I love you, Paige. With my entire heart. Never, ever doubt that.”
The tenderness that falls over her is so easy to see—she gives her love so freely and doesn’t ask for anything in return. “Chase, I—”
I press my lips to hers to silence her. After a moment, I drop my forehead to hers and whisper, “Go.”