Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 128812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
There are no good memories here, nothing I want to look back on.
If anything, a trip a few streets down would be better. His childhood home carries more good things than this place ever did.
It's hard to work in the field we work in and not reflect on our own lives. I know my life would look great from the outside looking in. My parents had money. I wore designer clothes. My first car was brand new and paid for in full.
It was all out of obligation, and there will always be feelings of gratitude inside me for what they provided, but not all pain is physical pain. I didn't have to be beaten to be brought to my knees as a child.
Still, I know I had it better than a lot of other kids had it, and in knowing that, there's guilt for letting it control so much of my life.
I didn't go to school, having to cover up bruises or worry about my next meal.
I'm not saying psychological abuse is worse or even equal to physical abuse, but it leaves a mark on a person just the same.
"I don't know if I'm ready to go into a store and buy those sorts of things," I confess, feeling as if my readiness for this with him is wavering.
I want it. Don't get me wrong, but I feel like it's a process, as if baby steps are needed.
As much as I just want to take a big deep breath and exhale everything that would prevent me from just walking into the sunshine with him with my head held high, I know that's not realistic.
I'm aware enough to know my limitations, and I can only hope that he's as understanding of that as I need him to be.
"Stop," he says a few feet from the rental truck as he once again plants his feet.
I shouldn't have even brought it up until we were in the truck and on the road. At least that way, I could keep my eyes on the road instead of being forced to look right at him.
"Nope," he says, getting right in my face, his hand releasing mine so he can reach down and tilt my chin up. "Don't hide from me."
"I'm..." I shake my head before a lie slips out because he's right.
I want to avoid this conversation.
I want to pretend I'm not too much work and that there's a chance he'll walk away because he doesn't have the patience for it.
"I know that all of this is going to take some time. I know there will be things you're comfortable with and things you may never be comfortable doing. But never hide your truth from me." He gives me a weak smile, his hand flexing on my face when I attempt to look away. "Do you love me?"
"Of course, I do," I answer without hesitation.
"Do you want to be in a relationship with me?"
I nod.
"More than friends?"
I scoff, nodding again.
"Monogamous?"
"Better be," I growl.
His grin grows wider, eyes shining as if that hint of possessiveness is exactly what he needs from me.
"We're building a future together?"
"That's what I want," I assure him.
"That's what I want as well. Let's take it day by day," he says as he turns to get in the truck.
"I don't want that," I say, hating the way his shoulders slump slightly. "I want to make plans. I want to know that we're working toward building a life with us together."
He looks over his shoulder, less pain in his eyes from his injuries than he had yesterday, but there's still a hint of discomfort.
"Then we're on the same page. Can we go now? There's a pharmacy that will have all of our extracurricular needs just a few blocks away."
I chuckle, going around to the driver's side door and climbing in. I watch as he gets situated, noticing the hesitation in his movements as he reaches for the seatbelt.
"Don't," he snaps as he clicks it in place, noticing me watching him. "I'm fine."
"You'd tell me if you weren't?"
"I would," he says.
I pull on my own seatbelt and crank the truck, keeping my eyes straight ahead as we pull away from the house. There's no glance back in the rearview mirror, no emotional response. I formed a detachment to this place long before I ever moved out.
"We should swing by your house," I suggest. "How long has it been since you saw your parents?"
"Too long, according to Mom," he says. "But she'd lose her shit if she saw me like this."
His parents were always kind to him, even if they were a little less involved with his day-to-day life than any parent should be.
"So you still have a good relationship with them?" I ask, checking both ways before turning onto the street that takes us out of the gated community.