Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 76592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Damn.
I think that’s the first time I’ve allowed myself to even think those things.
Maybe Henry’s right. Maybe I should tell him.
I clear my throat. “It’s fragments,” I say. “His hot breath. His hands on my body. His voice. He sounded reptilian, kind of. Evil. And I tell myself how lucky I was that Lance came along and saved me. I tell myself it was my own fault for walking alone at night and not paying attention that I was going beyond the safe zone. Sometimes there are nightmares. Sometimes, even though I know I’m okay, my body doesn’t remember that I am.” I sigh. “It’s getting better. And I think…”
“You think what?”
I inhale, and then I smile weakly. “I think telling you is helping.”
He returns my smile.
“I wonder…”
“What?” he asks.
“I wonder if that’s part of the reason I didn’t come to the hospital when you asked. Sure, I told myself it was the seminar, and part of it was, but maybe another part of it was that I felt… I don’t know. Changed, I guess. By the incident. The attack. Even though nothing happened.”
“Don’t say nothing happened, Tabitha. Something did happen. Your world was shaken. For a time, no matter how brief, you believed you were in danger. You were in danger.”
I gulp. “I was.”
“I understand,” he says. “My situation is different from yours, but I know the feeling. My world was shaken, too. First by Ralph, and then by the accident. But I’m okay. Or at least I’m working on being okay. And I will be.”
He sounds sure.
Maybe surer than I’ve ever heard him.
He’s quiet for a moment. Then, “I wish I’d been there.”
“You can’t be everywhere.”
“I can try for here.” He taps his chest once. “I can try for this.”
I want to laugh, except nothing about any of this is funny. “And when it gets bad in your head again? When you can’t sleep and the world goes thin? You’ll…what? White-knuckle it for me?”
The honesty in his eyes makes my stomach flip. “I’ll call my aunt,” he says. “I’ll let her help me. I’ll take Zach on runs. I’ll stop pretending I can carry it alone.”
“You’ll actually do it?” I ask.
“Yes.” The word lands heavy. “Because I shot a man and a beam cracked my skull and the only constant across both is that when it gets dark, I look for you. If I want to be the man who deserves you, I have to fight where it counts.”
There it is. The thing I’ve been trying not to name. He says it plainly. The fight isn’t Ralph or a rogue beam. It’s inside him. Inside me.
I bite my lip. “I should get some help too.”
He nods. “Probably a good idea. I’m sure my aunt would talk to you.”
“I don’t want to bother her. She’s retired. I can find someone in Boulder.”
He nods again.
Boulder.
Yeah.
No use delaying the inevitable any longer.
It’s time for me to go home.
“I can’t let anything get between me and my future,” I say. “Not the attack. Not anything.”
He pauses. Then, “Not me?”
I let out a huff that sounds like a chuckle. “Are you saying we have a future now?”
He grabs my hands. “I’m saying I’d like for us to have one. I mean, we live on opposite sides of the state, and we both have lives where we live.”
“A long-distance relationship doesn’t scare you?”
He laughs. “Of course it scares me. You may wake up one day and decide I’m too fucked up to bother with. Doesn’t it scare you?”
“Of course it does.” I draw in a breath. “I’m scared of wanting you so much that I’ll look up one day and realize I’ve let go of everything else.”
His expression softens, edges lowering. “You won’t. I won’t let you.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“I can promise I’ll pull you back if you start to drift.” He steps closer, close enough that I can feel the heat of his body. “And you’ll do the same for me.”
I rest my forehead against his sternum. He slides his fingers into my hair.
“Say it again,” I murmur. “The part where you’ll fight.”
“I’ll fight for you,” he says against my crown. “Every time.”
And some tiny fracture inside me begins to knit together. Not all of it. Not the complicated places. Just enough to stand up straighter.
“How long do we have?” I ask, and I don’t mean the storm.
He hears me anyway. “You’ve got lab tomorrow,” he says. “I’ve got…a life I said I would start living like it matters.”
I nod. “So not long.”
He kisses my forehead. It’s not the kiss I want, which makes it worse. “Maybe long enough,” he says.
“Don’t say maybe.”
“Then long enough.” He tips my chin up gently. “Long enough to make a plan instead of a promise.”
“Plans change,” I say, because we swore to be honest.
“Then we change them together.”