Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 120631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 603(@200wpm)___ 483(@250wpm)___ 402(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 603(@200wpm)___ 483(@250wpm)___ 402(@300wpm)
Jocelyn wouldn’t bat an eye while he stressed over crooked frames and fingerprints on the walls. He’d be no match for them, outnumbered by their wild nature and charmed completely.
A sob cut through him, out of nowhere, and he clamped a hand over his mouth, hearing his father’s cruel voice.
Hawthorne men don’t cry.
The sound was so catastrophic, so horribly raw, he tried to swallow it back.
A spiderweb of agony spread through his chest like glass under pressure as the pain burst inside of him.
King whimpered, getting up from the floor in a tangle of legs and coming to rest his head on his knee. The silent comfort nearly shattered Soren.
“You love me, don’t you, boy?” He dropped his head on the dog’s, and hugged him tight.
The pressure in his chest expanded, pushing against the walls of his lungs, stretching his throat, burning his eyes, and crushing his heart as it pounded rapidly in his chest.
He rubbed his chest, afraid he was having some kind of attack. He should get his phone. But as King nestled harder into his side, a high-pitched wheeze seeped from Soren’s chest, and another sob belted out of him, broken like the chop of an inlet.
Scrubbing his hands over his face, he drew back at the damp trace of tears. Breathing hard, he shivered as a cool sweat broke out under his clothes.
Hawthorne men don’t cry…
He curled his hands into fists so tight his knuckles popped. His vision blurred and his breath jumped in jagged gusts. He couldn’t get in enough oxygen. Couldn’t breathe out the pain.
His whole world seemed to hinge on his need to reach her. He had to get past her walls and make her see that they were not over.
Wiping his nose on the back of his hand, he told himself he’d give her tonight, but tomorrow he would make her see they weren’t finished.
They couldn’t be.
“I’ll get her back.”
King lifted his head and licked his cheek. When Soren gave a watery laugh, the dog took it as an invitation to climb onto his lap.
“No—” His objection cut off with a grunt as one hundred and sixty-two pounds of fur-covered love decided no meant yes.
King flattened Soren onto the couch and panted happily, his giant tongue rolling out in unfaultable triumph.
“You miss her too, don’t you boy?”
The dog barked, piercing his ears and knocking the wind out of his chest, affirming he not only missed Jocelyn, but her little rat too.
And damn it, he also missed that rabid little dust bunny because Cordelia was a part of her and he wanted every chaotic bit.
“I’ll get them back. I promise.”
Twenty-four long-stem roses landed face down in the trash. Jocelyn blocked Soren’s number first thing Monday morning when he refused to stop calling and texting. That was when he tried flowers.
Now, she was just pissed.
Knowing Soren, he’d eventually show up at her door, and she couldn’t handle that. Nor should she have to. In hopes of avoiding confrontation altogether, she called Wren.
“I just need him to stop,” Jocelyn explained. “No more calls. No more texts. No flowers. Just leave me alone.”
“Joce, maybe if you just heard him out. He’s obviously sorry.”
She knew he was sorry, but that didn’t negate the fact that this was a clear sign of the kind of man he’d always be.
“What would you do if Greyson put his colleagues before you?”
“Bodhi and I are his colleagues.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Logan told Grey there was something wrong with the plane. He obviously didn’t plan to be late.”
“He showed up in golf clothes, Wren. He spent the whole morning golfing, knowing I needed him. I just…can’t.”
Her friend sighed. “I’ll ask Grey to talk to him. I’ll tell him you need more time.”
Would time repair this?
“Thank you.”
Wren hesitated before hanging up. “I think he loves you, Joce.”
Her vision blurred. “Don’t do that. It’s not fair. If he loved me, he would have been here when I needed him.”
“He tried—”
“No, Wren, he didn’t. I texted him in the morning, telling him all about the fish crisis and I…” She practically choked on the truth. “I even said I needed him. If he had left then, he would have been there, but instead, he played a full round. Eighteen holes while I was trapped in Bait-gate.”
Her friend sighed. “I’ll talk to Grey.”
After talking to Wren, Jocelyn only felt like eating her feelings. She hadn’t gone to town that morning for her usual order at the Harbor Crumb, so she searched the fridge for anything that wasn’t a condiment, settling for a shitty cup of coffee and a defrosted bagel with butter.
Two bites and one sip and she tossed both in the trash, over the roses.
Writing was impossible.
Every time she tried to construct a sentence, the blinking cursor mocked her. How could she focus on romance when her heart was so broken?