Total pages in book: 19
Estimated words: 17129 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 86(@200wpm)___ 69(@250wpm)___ 57(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 17129 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 86(@200wpm)___ 69(@250wpm)___ 57(@300wpm)
“Didn’t want to be bothered,” I told him, shrugging my shoulders. “I still don’t. So, can you go?”
“Like hell,” he snarled. He pushed past me into my apartment and snatched the door from my grip, slamming it closed so hard that the walls shook. “I’m not someone you can just push away,” he warned me. “What the fuck is going on, Mikayla?”
I turned my back on him to walk back to the living room, hoping he’d get the memo and leave. But no chance in hell. He gripped my arm and spun me back around to face him. I stumbled and slammed into his chest. “Start talking, woman.”
“Let me go,” I snapped at him. A storm was brewing in my chest, and if he didn’t leave, this whole situation was going to turn ugly. I just wanted space. Why couldn’t I have that? What was so wrong about me having a little bit of fucking space?
“Not until you tell me what the fuck is going on. You want to break up, Mikayla? That it?” Voicing it made pain flash through his eyes, but he smothered it before it had time to stick around. “If that’s it, be woman enough to end it instead of pulling away from me,” he growled.
“If you don’t let me go, I will be ending it,” I warned him. And I couldn’t even feel an ounce of regret or pain through what I was already dealing with.
He gripped my other arm. “Do it,” he dared me, pain and anger lacing his words. “Fucking do it, Mikayla.”
“Fuck you!” I yelled at him. Because even when I was hurting like this, I couldn’t stand the thought of losing him. I knew that much. I needed him, but I needed to be by myself more. “Let me go, you fucking asshole!”
He gently shook me. “What the fuck is going on?!” he shouted at me.
“I just want space! Why can’t I have fucking space, Beau?!” I screamed at him, all of my pain beginning to unravel inside of me. It started to leak from my pores, desperate to escape me.
“Because when you fucking look like this,” he growled down at me, “space obviously isn’t doing you any fucking good. I need you to talk to me so we can work through whatever is going on.”
“Nothing can help this,” I seethed. Tears threatened to choke me again. My chin wobbled. “Nothing can fix death, Beau.” He ran his eyes over my face, trying to understand me. A tear slid down my cheek. A sob tore from my throat. Agony swept through my body. I would’ve fallen to my knees if he hadn’t still been grasping my upper arms. “Exactly one year ago today,” I croaked, “I listened on the other end of the phone as my parents died.”
Beau’s eyes widened, understanding finally passing over his features. Then, he crushed me to his chest. I promptly fell apart, wails ripping themselves from my chest. I clung to him, sobbing out my pain in his arms.
He sank to the floor with me when my legs trembled too much for me to stay upright, even in his hold. And just like that, right there on my kitchen floor, Beau held me while I felt like my world was falling apart around me all over again.
seven
Mikayla
Beau eased my shirt over my head and dropped it to the floor before his rough palms slid around my sides to my back, where he unclasped my bra. I let the straps fall down my arms until it dropped to the floor beneath our feet.
“Just keep breathing for me, goldie,” he murmured, his palms running down my sides and along the band of my jeans until he could unsnap the button and tug down the zipper.
There was nothing sexual about what he was doing. I felt chilled to my bones after all the crying I’d been doing and the hurt that had been consuming me all day, and now that he was here, now that he knew what I was going through, I didn’t want to be alone. I needed him here with me.
He tugged my jeans down, hooking my panties as he went, and once they were pooled around my feet, he crouched and tapped my left ankle—a silent instruction for me to lift my foot. Settling a hand on his broad, warm shoulder, I lifted my foot, allowing him to pull the left pants leg off, and then he did the same to my right—tapping it lightly until I lifted it.
“You’re doing so good,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to my thigh. I trembled, tears burning in my eyes, but I didn’t have the energy left within my body to allow them to fall.
I was so exhausted. Tired. Deep down in my bones.
Today was rough. Honestly, rough was an understatement. It was almost as bad as the day I heard them dying and could do nothing to help them.