Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 51624 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 258(@200wpm)___ 206(@250wpm)___ 172(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51624 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 258(@200wpm)___ 206(@250wpm)___ 172(@300wpm)
“Shut down. I didn’t mean to scare you, Livy.”
I finally force myself to look at him, confused. “You didn’t scare me. I just know that I’m not beautiful. I might have been passable once, but that was a very long time ago. Besides, it’s not important. Anything built on beauty doesn’t last. Life changes us all and eventually we get old.”
“You really don’t see how special you are, do you?”
“I’m not special,” I deny at once. “I’m just me. How about we figure out what we’re going to order?”
“You’re special to me and so many around you, Livy. Don’t sell yourself short.”
“What’s your favorite meal here?” I ask Lake, hoping he lets it drop.
“I’m thinking beef stew. It’s fall, which means it’s time for comfort food. You?”
“That sounds good,” I admit, and mean it. That’s one of my favorite meals in the cooler parts of the year. The diner here makes everything from scratch, too. It’s one of the few places you can get real home cooking.
He grins. “It’s a good sign we have the same tastes.”
“A good sign?” I ask, my heart speeding up.
“Friends are supposed to have similar tastes. If we had nothing in common, what would we have to talk about?” he asks easily.
“Oh. Yeah, I guess you’re right.” His words should make me feel better. I’m not sure why my emotions are so out of control when it comes to Lake. It’s confusing and silly. If Lake knew what a mess my mind was, he’d stop talking to me. I wouldn’t blame him.
“You seem to be doing good after your therapy session,” he acknowledges mid-bite.
“Yeah. It was an easy session. I mostly just talk about things and that’s getting easier. How about you? I noticed you came back from the doctor’s office more tense.”
“There wasn’t a lot to tell me. He looked at the preliminary shit and said everything looked okay. I’ve been having some problems, though. He wants to get everything back and then access me.”
“What kind of problems are you having?” I ask at once. Even I can hear the way my voice is threaded with heavy concern. I can’t help it. In the short time that I’ve spent time with Lake, he’s become important to me. There’s a pull inside me when he’s around. He eases a lot of the pain I’ve carried inside of me. I don’t know how or why—I just know it’s true.
“It’s not important,” he says, obviously not comfortable with the topic. I can understand that, but I can’t help the worry I feel either.
“Lake, if you’re sick, I want to know. I know I probably can’t help but I can be here for you,” I whisper, feeling awkward.
“You’d care?”
His words make something inside of me jolt painfully. I remember that feeling. After Bear died, when I was cut off from my father and a prisoner to the hell my brother made sure I’d experience daily, I’d feel so alone that I grew cold to the pain. After a while, it was as if everything was happening to someone else. Winnie had called it disassociation. My mind shut down, unable to take more, so it felt like I was only a spectator seeing everything that was happening, as if it didn’t truly involve me. One person caring back then would have meant the world. It might have even saved me.
“I care,” I admit. I tell myself that friends care about one another. That’s all this is. That’s all my heart has room for this to be. Yet, part of me knows that I’m lying. Lake feels like a safe place to land in a storm, like a dream that comes to soothe your mind, the sunlight in the morning shining down on your body—reassuring you that everything will be okay. Somewhere deep down, in a place that I can’t allow air into, I know Lake feels like a home—in a way that Bear did, in a way that Blade did, in the way that Winnie does, Cross does, and now the Wells brothers. Home.
Lake reaches over for my hand, squeezing it. The waitress shows back up for our orders. I start to pull my hand away. Lake’s grip tightens, not willing to lose this connection we’ve forged. He gives her our food choices, then centers his gaze back on me, my hand still secure in his.
“I’m just having headaches and staying tired, Livy. I’m sure everything is okay. The doctors are just being thorough and making sure. I don’t plan on going anywhere, especially now.”
“Now?” I ask. Then I take a breath. “I’m sorry, Lake.”
“What are you sorry about?” he asks.
“I’m pushing you and I have no right to. It’s not my place to know what’s going on. I’m using my concern for you to try to get you to confide in me, and that’s wrong.”