Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 101796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
“I am all ears.” It’s not all the time he gets this serious.
“If you sit in shit long enough, you won’t be able to smell it after a while.” He shrugs a shoulder. “I know, it’s not poetry. But do you get what I mean? Just because you’re used to something doesn’t mean it’s good. You deserve to be comfortable and feel good about yourself.”
“I don’t like talking about this.” I can feel my walls going up, and the prickly sensation I was already wrestling with now covers my whole body.
“I hear you. I’m just saying, though,” he adds, “if you ever felt like you needed to protect yourself with all those clothes, you don’t have to continue. You’ve got me now. I’ll be your bulldog.”
When he snaps his jaw and growls, a giggle bursts out of me before I can help it.
Can he honestly mean that? Does he really want to protect me? I still have a hard time believing he actually cares. There is so much distrust still, and it’s not completely his fault. I know I shouldn’t carry the past with me, but I can’t help it. Old habits die very hard.
Carter has his faults, but he’s not one of those people who made it their life’s mission to humiliate me. He’s not them. It’s going to take time, but… “I want to let go of all the past stuff that’s been holding me back. I really do.”
When he smiles, it’s like the sun breaking through storm clouds, lighting up everything that was so dark only minutes ago. It transforms his face and leaves me with an ache. Longing. More, I want more of this. I want it so much, I could cry.
Of course, he’s unaware of the mess going on in my head. “Good. That’s the best thing I’ve heard all day.”
I’m so afraid to believe he means that. I can’t believe how much I want him to be sincere. The desire grips me, like a fist clenching my stomach tight. Or maybe it’s my heart that’s being clenched. A scary thought, but a very real feeling.
It’s a feeling that lingers once we’re home, full of chips and salsa, burritos, guacamole. “I think I gained ten pounds.” Carter groans before patting his stomach on our way into the house. “No regrets.”
“I was afraid they were going to ask us to leave before we cleaned the place out.” I didn’t touch a drop of alcohol tonight, but I’m buzzing, anyway. High off the energy between us. Buzzing over the idea of shedding some of the past. I’m not sure exactly how, and I know it won’t happen overnight, but I’m starting to believe it’s possible.
I don’t need to carry the past around with me—it’s so heavy, dragging me down all the time. Maybe it’s easier to imagine this with Mom being halfway around the world. She’s not around to remind me of all the things I hate about myself, which, of course, is the same stuff she can’t stand about me.
“All I know is, I’m going to sleep like the dead tonight.” He follows me up the stairs, and I can’t help it when my heart takes off faster. What is he thinking? Is he going to make it a habit, sleeping in my bed?
Am I unhappy about the idea?
No, I’m not, and that is more confusing than I have the bandwidth to handle tonight. There are still a lot of things up in the air, like what’s going to happen when our parents come home and whether he’s going to get in serious trouble for that fight.
But tonight, full of delicious food and feeling the closest to happy I’ve been in so long, I don’t want to think about any of that. Just like I don’t want to think about whether it’s a good idea for him to share my bed.
That’s why I don’t bother putting up a front when he wanders into my room instead of going to his own. “I’ll be a good boy,” he promises before I even think to ask. “I ate half my weight in tacos tonight. You don’t have anything to worry about except getting Dutch ovened.”
“Oh, gross.” I roll my eyes and gag. “You’re definitely selling the experience.”
Holding up his hands, he says, “I won’t pin you under the blanket… but I can’t make any promises about what’ll come out of me while I’m asleep.”
I should tell him to get lost, shouldn’t I? I don’t have the heart. And really, I don’t want to. Not when it’s so much better to crawl into bed after pulling my pajamas on and brushing my teeth. Not when it feels so natural, him bringing in his laptop so we can watch a movie together. And not when he wraps his arms around me. That’s all he does—it’s simple, sort of innocent, and neither of us says a word about it. We don’t have to.