Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 26892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
“Gavin.” She swallows, looking away.
“None if it matters, though.” I press on, cupping her face in my hands, forcing her eyes back to mine. “I would give up every single dollar, every piece of property, and all of the money in the world if it meant shielding you from him. I don’t give a damn about a relationship with him if he’s capable of hurting you. But I need you to talk to me, baby girl. I need to know what happened between you two.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore. It’s in the past.” She stiffens under my hands, her lips pressing into a tight, stubborn line as she shakes her head, attempting to pull away from me.
“It does matter,” I insist, frustration lacing in my tone. “He talked about you like he owned you, like he had the right to break you. What did he do to you, Genevieve?”
“I’m not going into the details, Gavin. It’s ugly, and it’s over.” She refuses to budge.
“It’s not over if it’s still making you run away from me, in the morning, in nothing but my shirt. Any piece of shit could have harmed you.” I’m struggling with the guilt of not going after her right then and there. That’s on me, and I’ll apologize to her for my part in this fiasco. I stand up, unable to stay still, and begin pacing back and forth in the living room. My hands rake through my hair as I move to the window to look out at the street, my jaw clenches tightly enough to grind down my molars.
“How am I supposed to protect you if you won’t tell me? How am I supposed to fix this if you keep me locked out?” Her eyes track me, her hands coming out of the blanket, landing on her lap. She lets out a long, shuddering breath, and her shoulder sag.
“Alex told me to give you the benefit of the doubt.” Her voice is soft and quiet in the tension-heavy room. “She told me on the drive over that you aren’t him and I should let you explain. But, Gavin, I don’t want to drag your son through the dirt to you. He’s still your blood, no matter how it started, and I won’t be the woman who spits hatred about a man’s child.”
“She’s right, and I’m forever grateful you have her in your corner and that Dante let me know that you were safe.” Alex picked up my slack, and Dante told me she was here, so I didn’t have to search the streets or stop at every bookstore in a ten-block radius. Genevieve doesn’t have just one favorite store. She has many and refuses to frequent the bigger well-known chain to find her next romance novel.
“I have really good friends.” I nod in agreement.
“I want everything, Genevieve.” I move to take a seat on the couch, my hand engulfing hers. I bring it to my lips and hold it there for a moment. “I want every dirty, ugly, rot-filled detail of what he did to you. I want to know every word he used to make you feel small, every lie he fed to you, and every mark her left on your confidence. I’m not protecting him. I’m protecting you. And until you let it all out between us, I’m not leaving this room.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
gennie
“Ireally do not want to talk about Bryce, but since you insist, here goes nothing.” The words tumble past my lips in a shaky, breathless rush. I pull my knees into my chest, my insides trembling as I begin to rock slowly back and forth on the couch in an attempt to self-soothe. The anxiety is a living, breathing weight in my throat, and in a burst of agitated energy, I throw off the blanket I knit on a whim to find a new hobby. It’s not at all even, longer than it is wide, and an array of small to bigger holes. Who knew counting is necessary when it comes to knitting?
I suddenly feel suffocated by the heat, only to freeze and panic at the vulnerability and immediately wrap myself up again. It’s like when you’re a child and you refuse to sleep with one leg out in case a monster comes to attack you, not at all rational thinking, but that’s how it feels right about now.
I’m still in Gavin’s gray shirt. I didn’t want to change, didn’t want to lose his scent or the comfort of how it makes me feel being surrounded by it. If our relationship was over, at least I got to keep this one thing of his. After Alex dropped me off, I had the forethought to clean the dirt and gravel from my bare feet before pulling on a thick pair of wool socks. The mug of hot chamomile tea Alex lovingly made for me sits completely forgotten and abandoned, growing cold on the scuffed-up wood coffee table.