Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 92899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
He laughed at something she said, the sound warm and genuine, and my chest tightened with an emotion I didn’t want to examine too closely.
“You planning to actually eat that or just move it around your plate?”
I looked up to find Trace studying me with knowing eyes. “What?”
“Your dinner. You’ve been pushing the same piece of carrot around for ten minutes.” He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “I sensed some tension out there today between you and the doc.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said automatically.
Trace lifted his eyebrows in surprise before tilting his head at me. “Right. I see.” He glanced down the table at Tommy, then back at me. “Look, I don’t care what you two do on your own time, but this tension is starting to affect the program. The students are picking up on it.”
My jaw clenched. “We’re handling it.”
“Are you?” Trace’s voice was quiet but firm. “Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you’re both coiled tighter than a rattlesnake. I can’t decide if you want to punch the guy or sleep with him. Figure your shit out, Foster, whichever one it is.”
Before I could respond, he stood and moved to the other end of the table, leaving me alone with my untouched dinner and his blunt assessment.
Figure your shit out.
The problem was, I didn’t know how.
I could hate Tommy Marian—okay, not really, but I could give a decent impression of it by acting cold and dickish.
I could fall for Tommy Marian in a heartbeat.
But one thing I didn’t know how to do, had never known how to do, was to be indifferent to the man.
My brain couldn’t comprehend the notion of liking him just a little. Of being friendly and casual with him like I was with the students and the other instructors. I didn’t know how to pretend he hadn’t rocked my world six months ago and left me reeling. That I didn’t want him still.
As I watched him laugh with the other instructors, saw the way his eyes crinkled at the corners and the genuine warmth in his smile, I felt my resolve to stay on guard cracking.
These next few weeks were my only chance to be with him. Did I really want to give that up, just to save myself from the pain of letting go of him later?
Wasn’t it going to hurt to walk away from him regardless?
Maybe it was worth the pain if it meant I got to touch him again, to feel that connection we’d shared in Hawaii.
Maybe I was losing my goddamn mind.
“Foster?” Tommy’s voice cut through my spiraling thoughts. I looked up to find him standing beside my chair, most of the other instructors already heading out. There was something careful in his expression, like he was trying to read my mood. “You want to head back?”
I glanced around the nearly empty dining room, surprised to find that dinner was over and I’d barely touched my food.
Trace caught my eye and lifted his brow.
I gave Tommy a half smile. “Er, yeah. Let’s go.”
The walk back to Cabin 8 felt like the longest quarter-mile of my life. Chickie trotted between us, blissfully unaware of the tension crackling in the air. By the time we reached our door, my hands were sweating, and my heart was hammering against my ribs.
When Tommy opened the door, Chickie bounded inside and immediately collapsed on her spot in the corner, exhausted from the day’s excitement. Tommy stopped in the middle of the small space and turned to me until we faced each other like gunfighters at high noon.
“Listen,” I said, running a hand through my hair. “I’m sorry about—”
He cut me off by holding up a hand. “I’m going to go stay at my sister’s and leave you in peace. I’ll be back in the morning for breakfast.”
The coldness in his voice, the exhaustion in his eyes—it was undoing me piece by piece. “Tommy—” I began, wondering how to beg him to stay without acting like I gave a single shit.
“I cannot stay here with you like this,” he continued, his voice low and intense. “I have wanted you for six fucking months, Foster. And I get that you don’t want me back, okay?” He stepped closer until I could see the flecks of gold in his hazel eyes. “But nothing good will come of me staying here. Believe me.”
“Stay.” The word came out rougher than I’d intended. His proximity was making my brain blink and fizz. I couldn’t think when he was this close. And I wasn’t sure I wanted to.
Tommy’s eyes flashed. “Stay for what? Another evening of you pretending to be professionally indifferent?” He let out a humorless laugh. “Because I’ve gotta tell you—”
I grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him in for a kiss, the kiss I’d waited a hundred and sixty-two days to repeat. A small, shocked sound escaped him, followed by the softest whimper.