Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 55395 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55395 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
“No, no. I’m good, promise.” I feel one hand sneak away from my side. She slithers it between us, and I’m assuming she’s wiping away her tears. Christ, the last time she’s been in my arms with tears streaming down her cheeks was the day she left Whispering Oaks. I’d had to reluctantly push her away from me and help her in the car. It’d broken a piece of me, knowing that the kind of love and friendship we had is what others dream about. Call me a pussy, call me an idiot, you can call me any damn thing in the book, but as long as I’d had Lyric, I didn’t give one single fuck. “I guess we need to talk, too.”
“We’ll deal with that another time. Let’s work on the house and go from there.” That whole once-bitten-twice-shy deal is ringing in my ears.
“Right, then can we start with the bedroom and bathroom? On second thought, let me go grab my notebook. Your mom and I made notes on what all would need to be done, plus I have pictures to kind of keep the same appeal it once had. Minus the exterior. I don’t think anything needs to be done besides the yard work, a good pressure washing, and a new coat of paint. All of that I can manage on my own,” Lyric says. At least now she’s not hiding her eyes from me. While they may be bloodshot and red-tinged, at least the tears have stopped.
“Go grab your notebook. I’ll take pictures and measurements to get everything specced out. And since you’re not talking about opening up any rooms, you won’t need an engineer, at least as long as nothing structural is going on.” The dropping of her shoulders makes me realize that I could have kept that out of the equation.
“Is that a big possibility?” She steps away from me and looks from my face to the wide-open door.
“I’ll take a look around, but I’m not seeing any cracks in the walls or ceilings.” I keep my mouth shut about foundation issues this time.
“Oh, right. Okay, I’ll be right back.” My lips tip in a smile as I watch her scurry out of the house, being careful not trip on the bunched-up carpet again. It’s not until she’s out of my line of sight that I get started on work. Lyric hinted at bringing up the past, and while I’d love a lot of my questions answered, it’s clear now isn’t the time. It damn sure isn’t the place, either. I give my mom another thirty minutes tops until she’ll be over here getting in the thick of what Lyric wants her home to be.
8
LYRIC
Imade a mad dash to my vehicle, placed my cup in the holder, and scarfed down the last bite of my muffin. I needed sustenance after seeing Jagger in the flesh after all these years. The fact that we played it off only made my anxiety heighten. I’d have much rather hashed it all out and got to the root of the cause, except I chickened out because I’m a big ole ninny.
When I came back inside, I watched Jagger work, measuring rooms, taking pictures, checking every nook and cranny. He’d make comments here or there, scribble on his tablet with a pen. It was all very methodical, and it had me wondering about what else he can do with his strong capable hands.
I look at Jagger, really look at him. Somewhere along the way, he’s managed to become taller than I remember and packed on a shit ton of muscle. He’s solid, rock solid. When he brought me into the comfort of his arms and chest, I felt every damn inch of his toned body. My emotions getting the better of me didn’t help any. I seemed to be leaking like a faucet. I only hope the tears have finally calmed down because I’m tired of them.
Jagger’s dirty blond hair is longer than before, grazing the top of his collar, tousled in a way that makes you think he’s run his fingers through it multiple times when I’ve yet to see him do so. The loose waves, the style, it seems unkempt, giving him the free spirit vibe, like he’s someone who doesn’t follow the rules; that’s who he was years ago. I’ve got a feeling the adult version of Jagger is more along the lines of a bend-the-rules-until-they-break kind of guy.
When our eyes meet across the room, mine drown in his, blue like the sky just before dusk, the quiet intensity sucking me into their vortex. I’d be the willing victim to drown in them. I’ve had to tell myself relentlessly to quit staring at the man who at one time meant everything to me in the form of a best friend slash secret boyfriend. We’d kept things quiet, didn’t tell our parents, hiding our true feelings, though my mom knew. How couldn’t she? And how could I not fall for the man who reminds me so much of the boy that was my childhood best friend and once boyfriend?