Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 69468 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69468 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
“Felt like losing my friends that day and then my parents later was my punishment,” I admitted between sobs.
“It wasn’t.” Carson squeezed my shoulder.
“And then I just kept right on punishing myself.” I exhaled so hard my throat burned. “I didn’t think I deserved to be happy.”
“You do.” Carson held me close, unbothered by my crying. “We both do.”
“Trying to believe that.” I gave a futile swipe at my eyes.
“Nothing you did changes this.” Carson pulled away so he could tap his chest, right above his heart.
“Oh.” Time stood still, the enormity of what he’d said sinking in slowly like a soaker hose over a long dormant flower bed. My chest swelled, the empty spot that box of guilt had occupied replaced by something altogether new: hope.
“Jude?” Carson made me look at him again. “I love you.”
“Now?” I blinked. I was falling apart in a public parking lot, damp and soggy with years of repressed guilt and shame, barely able to get a coherent thought together. And he loved me now?
“Yeah, now.” He chuckled like I was being ridiculous.
“I’m a mess.”
He shrugged. “Turns out I like mess.”
“You haven’t known me that long. Only a couple of months. What if—”
“Long enough to know.” Carson silenced me with a finger against my lips. “Not changing my mind.”
His eyes never wavered. Damn. He actually meant it. And this was Carson, the guy I trusted to keep his word. If he said he loved me, he must. And if he said he wasn’t leaving, he wouldn’t.
“I might love you too,” I whispered like a lower volume could make the truth less terrifying.
“Might.” Chuckling, Carson rolled his eyes at me before leaning in for a fast kiss. “Gonna have to work on that.”
“That sounds ominous.” It felt good to join his laughter.
“Good to have goals.” Carson used his index finger to check things off an imaginary list. “Get you to drop that might.”
“I think that could be arranged.” I wasn’t sure if I was bold enough to say it right this moment, but like Carson said, it was a good goal. And I knew in my heart it was true. Didn’t matter how many months. I simply knew, and maybe I had from the instant I’d walked into the horse barn his first day.
“Good.” Carson gave me another sound kiss. “Next goal is family dinner.”
“Family dinner?” I made a pained noise. “Give you an inch…”
“Maverick and Colt invited you.”
“Well, since you love me.” My voice caught on love as I tried the sentence out, but it felt true. Carson did love me. I could lean into that truth. “I guess I can be brave.”
“That’s the spirit.” Carson nodded like our love and the dinner going well were done deals.
That tendril of hope continued to unfurl in my chest, like a crocus after a hard winter. Hope could choke out the weeds of guilt and shame if I cultivated it enough. I wanted that, wanted to live in a world where hope and love replaced my doubts.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Carson
“There you go.” I had Linus up on some wobbly yoga-style foam blocks, working on his balance and limb awareness. He was doing so well today, scarcely any anxiety as I put him through his paces. I hoped I could say the same for my boyfriend.
I supposed boyfriend was the right word. We were friends. He was a guy. We were also sleeping together, and I loved him. Wasn’t sure what other word to use because Jude sure as shit would balk at some of the more permanent words.
Might. He might love me too. Ha. He did love me, full stop. He, like Linus, still had some anxiety to work through. Jude was also doing better each day. A week since the support group meeting. Another week of settling into being a couple. A week for him to turn his breakdown into a breakthrough. He’d contacted one of the counselors Simone recommended, a big step for someone who’d been so determined not to have a problem.
We all got shit to shovel. I’d heard the saying before, but never had it seemed more true. Everyone at the support group had shit to shovel, Jude included. Me too. The guilt discussion had rattled some crap loose for me as well. One of my physical therapists had said that no one came through military service unscathed. Wise woman. Everyone had scars, visible or not.
Linus gave a gentle whinny as I led him off the blocks. He also bore the legacy of his past, a hurt I couldn’t take away or change, but together, we were finding a way forward. I wanted the same thing with Jude.
“Wow.” The man in question strode up to the arena gate as Linus and I finished. “I’m impressed.”
“He’s working hard.” I gave the horse a pat on our way over to Jude.