Total pages in book: 260
Estimated words: 245483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1227(@200wpm)___ 982(@250wpm)___ 818(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 245483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1227(@200wpm)___ 982(@250wpm)___ 818(@300wpm)
A bit—okay. Totally upside down.
“And …” She takes another small bite of her food. “If you don’t want to be with him, you don’t have to be.”
“I know.”
“Then why do you look like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re stuck and hopeless. And maybe like you’re a lovesick lost puppy.” Lydia softens her statement with a smile.
She’s right. I couldn’t even nap today. I spent an hour on the couch trying, but all I could think about was whether Cill would come back or whether he’d disappear out of my life again. I thought about his note. I thought about him … and then he texted me.
“It’s kind of insulting to my ego that a single text from a man can make me feel this way,” I admit out loud and, without my conscious consent, sneak a peek at the clock again.
Lydia snorts a laugh and pushes her hair out of her face, elbows on the table while dragging out the words, “Oh my God. You still love him!”
There’s that twist in my chest and the knowledge I have to tell him everything, but still I nod.
“So you’re a mess over him, even after four years?”
“Because I want him with me more than anything,” I admit. “But when he finds out what happened …” Emotion makes my throat close.
“So you haven’t told him?” Lydia questions.
“I betrayed him, Lydia.” The clock reads six fifty-five. “I honestly thought about texting him … and then hiding at your place.” A heavy exhale leaves me.
“He wasn’t here,” she tells me and I’m shocked by the hard tone she uses. With my gaze trapped in hers mostly from shock, she repeats, “He wasn’t here and a lot happened. He changed and so did you, and if he can’t understand that, it’s on him.” Her swallow is audible when she finishes and she gives me a curt nod as if to ask, isn’t that right?
There’s a flop in my chest, one that’s dull and thuds on its own for a moment.
“How do I look him in the eye after he’s gone through hell and tell him what happened?” I’ve thought of it a million times, but even in my imagination, I open my mouth and no words come out.
“Kat.” Her voice goes soft and serious. Lydia puts down her fork and my stomach twists at the conversation I know is coming. “You aren’t the only one, and he needs to know—”
The front door rattles, then opens with a familiar creak. I jump, feeling guilty and caught, and barely manage to catch my wine before it sloshes all over my kitchen floor.
“We’re back,” Reed says. “You here?”
“In the kitchen,” Lydia calls out. With only a few steps Reed appears in the threshold, wearing his leathers, complete with a Celtic cross, and an easy smile. Until he sees me, and it slips for a moment.
Then there’s Cill … appearing right behind him and all that nervousness and fluttering and every emotion that I can’t control, it all comes up full force with no way to stop it.
Cillian
With a soft click, the front door shuts behind me and my gaze roams down Kat’s backside as she enters a code into the security system.
My body’s hot and my blood pounds as I slip off my leather jacket and wait for her to turn around.
To face me and face this situation we’re in.
It’s so quiet in her place that I can easily hear her swallow as my jacket is placed over the back of the simple wooden chair.
“Well, now they’re gone …” she says and trails off as she ambles her way into the kitchen, her bare feet padding on the floor. With her arms crossed over her chest, she hides the fact that she’s not wearing a bra under her dark navy sleep shirt.
“Do you need anything before I go to bed?” she asks, brushing her hair off her shoulder, her wide hazel eyes peering up at me.
“Why does what you say to me, not match what I think … you’re thinking. What is it you really want to say?” I take a hesitant step toward her and the floor creaks beneath me.
My little hellcat stays where she is, her breath hitching as I reach out and let my thumb slip down her arm. The small touch is like a spark, cracking and igniting the faint tinder into a blazing fire.
She swallows again, her chest heaving with a desperate inhale before brushing my touch away and ripping her gaze from me as well.
I haven’t felt so nervous, so close to the edge of something that could break me since I sat in that small barren room of the courthouse, signing confession papers and knowing it meant I wouldn’t see freedom again for years.
That’s what her simple act of rejection does to me … it’s worse than that even. Fuck.