Total pages in book: 187
Estimated words: 174623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 698(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 174623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 698(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
There's a vulnerability in it, but I know better than to forget what he's capable of, and was more than willing to do tonight to protect me.
"Come in," I say again when he continues to just stand there, half inside and half outside of the room.
He steps inside, closing and locking the door behind him, but he hovers near the edge of the bed rather than immediately climbing inside.
I want to tell him that I have no expectations, that I didn't ask for his presence and comfort because I expect more from him, but I can't seem to find the words, unsure of what his response would be.
"Ready for bed?" I ask instead.
"I am," he tells me.
I flip the blankets back on the side opposite mine, smiling softly when he sits on the edge of the bed, bending over first to pull off his shoes before rotating his body.
"Fu—I mean dang," he says as he climbs back out of the bed. "Forgot the lights."
I reach for the lamp, flicking it on a second before he flips the switch.
"How often do you think curse words in your head?" I ask, needing to say something to fill the awkwardness that threatens to settle over me.
I watch as he walks back to the bed, this time not hesitating to take the spot beside me.
"More often than I should be proud of," he mutters.
"You know you don't have to change who you are when I'm around."
He lies back, head on the pillow, fingers interlaced behind his head.
"You don't cuss," he says. "Well, you cussed that one time at your apartment when the alarm went off."
My cheeks heat. "I didn't know you heard that. I don't do it often."
"I figured," he says. "So I don't cuss around you. I actually try not to cuss around any women. When I'm with the guys, it's different."
"What about Rivet and Slick?"
He chuckles, the sound wrapping around me like a blanket.
"They have mouths just as bad as mine."
I settle in, feeling a little uncomfortable and unsure how to act, even though I know asking him to stay is what I want.
"Can I keep the lamp on?"
"Of course," he says.
I close my eyes, exhaustion swimming inside me.
He's stiff as a board beside me, but I don't offer him the chance to leave. I give myself that one selfish act as I turn to my side. The warmth of his skin presses against me, and then he untangles his hands and lowers his arm. The second it wraps around my back, I release a long sigh, and sleep takes over.
I don't know how long I slept, but the sun is bright in the room when I wake up.
I know he's gone before I look over at that side of the bed, but it doesn't stop my eyes from confirming it.
Sleep did more than rejuvenate me physically. I feel like a brand-new person. My wounds aren't healed. My trauma hasn't suddenly vanished, but I feel different.
Kayla had no idea that last night was going to be her last. I know without a doubt that if she had a crystal ball that told her what her future held, she would've made different choices.
I have a clear picture of how I don't want to live going forward, and despite what the outcome may be, I know I can't just stay in my head wondering what everything means like I did when I slinked away into the night after Nyx and I had sex.
I know now that if I have questions, I should vocalize them.
If I want something or have expectations in my life, I shouldn't hesitate to ask for them.
I have no idea what tomorrow is going to hold, so the only way to truly live is to live in the moment I've been given.
I run to the bathroom, wash my face and brush my teeth, put on clothes more acceptable for mixed company, and head to the bedroom door.
The second I step out into the hallway, I see Nyx coming around the corner.
He's slowly carrying a cup of coffee in his hands, watching the top instead of looking in front of him as if he's trying not to spill a drop.
I freeze, shocked to see him heading back in this direction.
In my mind, I had already decided that he bailed from my room the same way I had a few days ago.
He didn't desert me. He went for coffee, and I know it's for me because he doesn't drink it.
Tears once again threaten as I accept just how sweet, kind, and thoughtful this man is.
It doesn't matter how many lives he has taken or how much blood has coated his hands. I know without a shadow of a doubt that he cares for me and will only ever touch me with softness.
"Oh," he says as he looks and spots me frozen in the hallway. "Shit."