Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 128430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
I lie down and tug the covers under my chin. Staring up at the ceiling, I whisper, “I don’t know your last name.”
“Haywood.”
“Haywood,” I say, letting the word slip across my lips.
“What’s yours?”
Looking at him, I roll to my side. “Salenger with an E, not an I.”
He rolls to face me, not afraid to be close even though I’m sick. “Story Salenger.” Reaching over, he tucks some hair behind my ear. “What’s your story morning glory?”
Not sure if it’s the fever, but I have a feeling it’s the way he’s looking at me that has my cheeks heating. Being in the spotlight of the intensity of his eyes, the smile that’s so genuine, and the touch of his hand when he finds mine under the covers to caress has my head swimming, never wanting to catch my breath.
“Your name.”
“Huh?”
“I was saying your name, Story, is a unique name.”
“Ah. Yes,” I reply with a sigh. “My mom was sort of a flower child born in the wrong decade.” I roll my wrist until our hands are aligned, and then our fingers fold together. His hand is warm and comforting like that look in his eyes. “She was an avid reader of anything really. There were nature and travel books, romance novels, and memoirs of obscure people we’d never learn about in school. She looked at life like an expedition. I don’t think she ever stayed still. Not for long if she did.”
“She sounds fascinating.”
I take a deep breath, bracing myself to talk about her. I think of my mom all the time, but I don’t share her much with anyone. “She was.”
“Was?” His hand tightens just enough for me to notice the difference. “I’m sorry. Did she pass?”
“Pass is such a nicer way of putting it. No, she didn’t pass. She left this world the same way she lived her life. There was nothing quiet or nice about it.” The silence catches between us, making me realize that my mind had drifted further into the details than I’ve allowed myself in a long time. I look at Cooper, and though my heart is racing from memories that I’ve exposed to daylight, I try to right my expression and feign indifference. For him. And for me.
I can’t get sucked into this emotional mess anymore. Even my leg aches from the memory.
Cooper exhales, tempering his response. I’ve been here before, so I try to head it off. “Let’s not make a big deal out of this.”
“It is a big deal. You can’t hide the pain in your eyes, Story.” He kisses my hand, then looks back up at me. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Tears fill my eyes, making me hate that I’m so weak just from the memories. “Don’t do this, okay? Let’s just . . . I was the storybook ending she always dreamed of having.”
“That’s why she named you Story?”
I nod, but my chin is wobbling, so I tuck my head down and stare at our hands. As I trace the veins across his hand, his strength isn’t just seen but felt as if I could fall from a cliff and our bond wouldn’t waver. “I could have been named Fairy for fairy tale just as easily.”
“I prefer Story.” He tilts my chin up with his other hand, and I’m met with a smile that makes my knees weak. “I don’t know where you’ve been all these years, but I’m glad we met.” This time, it’s not my hand he kisses. It’s me.
My forehead. My cheek. My—I pull back before he can kiss me on the mouth. “I don’t want to get you sick.”
“I think it’s probably too late for that.”
“I’ll feel so guilty if you get sick.”
Slipping his arm under me, he pulls me close, so close that I’m tucked under his chin and against his chest. “Don’t. Let’s just blame the bad weather and get some rest.”
“Probably best.” My lids start feeling the weight of the medicine, and each blink becomes a task. I’m so grateful I don’t have finals today. There’d be no way I’d make it to Haywood Hall. And if I did, I’d surely . . . “Haywood Hall,” I mutter, working through the familiar name. “I have classes in—”
“Get some rest, Story. We both need it.”
Closing my eyes again, I struggle to reopen them as the pull of sleep drags me under.
Light slips under my lids, too bright to ignore. I swallow. My throat is dry, but my head feels better than I remember it did before falling asleep.
Stretching my arms above my head, I yawn and open my eyes. The afternoon sun drenches my apartment and Cooper next to me. I turn to wake him with a kiss, but I find the bed beside me empty instead.
My eyes dart around the room to the desk, the hook by the door, the clothes dropped on the floor at the foot of the bed. Every trace of him has gone missing.