Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97944 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97944 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
“Dammit,” he hisses and works himself off me.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” He stands, running his hand over his face.
“Doesn’t seem like nothing. Thought we were having a pretty nice time, then I tell you I love you, and—”
“Stop. Just don’t.”
I sit up and watch him gather his jeans, sliding them over his ass. “Stop? Stop what? Telling you how I feel?”
He turns, wearing a face I haven’t seen in weeks. Blank. No emotion. “You know damn well that’s not how this story ends.”
“And why is that?” I stand and grab my shirt, trying not to expose the hurt he’s inflicted.
“That’s not the life I live. A future, love? That shit isn’t an option for me.”
I take a step forward, but his icy stare stops me. “Why not?”
“Because it’s who I am. What I’ve accepted. I live for no one. I take risks, knowing they could be my last. That ain’t a life to burden someone with.”
“Tate, you’re not burdening—”
“Don’t be naïve, babe. This,” he points between us, “will only go as far as this job. Once it’s over, I’ll move on. I never stay in one place long. You just gonna sit at home and wait for me? Hope I show up when I say I do?”
What the fuck? I’m mad that tears start to fall. “Wow. I guess I pinned us all wrong.” I wipe my cheeks. “Thought maybe I’d finally found someone worth the sacrifice—someone who saw worth in me—”
“Mindy, it’s not like that.”
I scoff as hurt and betrayal burn my throat. “It’s exactly what it is.” I throw my hands up, sucking in a staggered breath. “Oh my god, how did I not see what a coward you are?”
“It’s not being a coward. It’s me protecting you—”
“Me? You’re doing this for me? Wow. How selfish of me.”
“Mindy—”
“Don’t ‘Mindy’ me. What about all that bullshit, saying I’m yours? What was that? Pretty words to make sure I kept sleeping with you?”
“I shouldn’t have said it. I didn’t have the right to.”
I choke on a sob. “You didn’t have the right to,” I repeat.
He grabs the back of his neck. “What do you want from me? This is me giving you an out.”
“Who said I wanted an out!” I scream. “This is ridiculous. I’m sorry I said what I said. It was clearly out of duress. Shitty marshmallow roasting and shittier sex will do that,” I spit out.
He steps forward. “You’re not seeing the bigger picture here.”
“Oh, I am. Half-cooked marshmallows suck.”
“Stop fucking hiding behind your jokes.”
“Jokes?” I scoff. “That’s not a joke. That shit was disgusting.”
“Knock it off,” he snaps.
“You knock it off—”
He snakes his hand around my neck, pulling me to him. I fight to pull away, but my emotions are too high, and it’s useless against his strength.
“Stop this, please.” His heated voice rumbles in my ear. “I can’t love you back, and I have my reasons. I’ve never hidden that truth from you. I’m not your happily ever after, Minds.”
Tears fall, and I angrily wipe them away. Feeling exposed, pathetic, and so fucking hurt, I reply, “No, again, you’re just a coward. I’m glad we got that out of the way. Is there anything else? If not, I need to figure out how to rewind time.” Back to before I ever met Tate fucking Deveraux.
His eyes, hard as steel, gaze down at me. His thumb brushes along my bottom lip. “And what would you change?” he asks.
“Ever meeting—”
His phone rings, cutting me off. His shoulders tense, and his head cocks toward the cabin. His phone hasn’t rung once since we’ve been here. And it shouldn’t. Not unless Sheldon is in custody or something’s wrong. Tate pulls back and sprints up the yard to the porch, grabbing his phone.
I quickly dress and follow him until I’m within earshot. “What’s going on?” he spits out, his brow instantly furrowing. “How? That’s impossible. We haven’t been in contact with anyone. No, I don’t have my fucking Wi-Fi on.”
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“He found us.” Tate barely addresses me before going back on a rampage, yelling at whoever’s on the other line.
No, I don’t have my fucking Wi-Fi on.
Crap. I turned on my phone and allowed him to find us.
“I don’t give a—”
“It was me.” Tate snaps his head in my direction. Nervously, I say, “A few days ago. I took my phone out of your bag. I was curious. I wanted to see who Jacie was. Tell her off—I don’t know. I—”
“You what?” His tone is calm yet deadly. My hands shake with nerves.
“I took my phone out of your bag and turned it on. I was on it for like a minute, I swear, then I put it back. I didn’t think it would trigger anything.”
Tate looks ready to murder someone—that someone being me. “Tate, I’m—”
“It was Mindy,” he spits out, cutting me off. “She got in her fucking—where? How far? How much time do we have?”