Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 103356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
She sighed. “You can’t guilt someone into eating.”
He clasped hold of her hand. “I don’t know how to ask this in some sort of sensitive way, so I’m just going to ask it.”
Uh-oh.
This could be anything . . . from wanting to perform some strange sex act to something far more intense and emotional.
“Are you so thin because you aren’t eating? Because that bitch put all these ideas in your head about your weight? You’ve lost a lot of weight in six months, baby, and that cannot be good for you.”
She sighed, rubbing her hand over her face. “I know it’s not good for me. God, if I hadn’t realized it by how tired and cold I am all the time, then I’d know it from the amount of hair I’m losing.”
“Fuck. Listen, Jake’s wife, Molly, is a psychologist. She’s not so bad to talk to. I mean, she tried to cure us, but then she figured out there’s nothing to cure.”
“I don’t think psychologists cure people.”
“Well, whatever. Us Malones are perfect the way we are.”
She snorted and he held up a piece of chicken. She stared at it with a sigh, rubbing her tummy.
“Eat, please, baby. You need your strength to get through the rest of your shift. And to go home and help look after Kye.”
He wasn’t wrong.
“If you need to talk to Molly . . . “
“I don’t,” she said quickly. Part of her was scared. Because once she started talking to someone . . . well, it might all come out and she might completely fall apart.
But also, she didn’t think she had an eating disorder. It was just that eating had become difficult with her constant anxiety and fear. Plus, she didn’t like to spend money on food for herself when she could use it on Kye.
Then there was the fact that she’d have to talk about Stefan. No conversation about her mental health could bypass him. And could she really trust Molly not to tell her husband, who was the freaking sheriff?
“All right, I’ll drop that for the moment. But I need you to start eating. You can eat whatever you like, so long as you eat.”
Was he serious right now?
“Do you listen to yourself speak?”
“Of course. I sound so good. How could I not?”
She groaned. “It’s just . . .”
“Just what, baby?” he asked, taking her hand.
Lord, he was being unbearably sweet. She almost couldn’t handle it.
“It’s hard for me to eat. My stomach is always tied up in knots. It wasn’t just Mrs. Jansen who restricted what I ate. After I left home, I felt so free. I ate what I wanted, wore what I wanted, said whatever came into my head without having to run it through a filter. And then I met this cute, sexy guy in a bar.”
“Hey! Don’t tell me about some asshole you met.”
“Dummy, I’m talking about you.” She nudged him.
“Me? That’s all right, then. Wait a minute, no it’s not! I’m not cute. I will accept sexy. Handsome is fine. Gorgeous. More attractive than all of my brothers combined and far, far smarter is preferable.”
She rolled her eyes. “Neck brace.”
He scoffed. “What’s the point of being all this if I can’t brag about it?” He waved his hand through the air over himself.
Lord. He was too much. But she couldn’t help but smile. What would it be like to be that confident in yourself?
She’d never had that.
“So, what happened after you met me?” he asked.
He fed her another bit of chicken. She was nearly full, but for some reason, it was easier to eat like this, while she was focused on their conversation. Usually, she didn’t like eating in front of other people, but Tanner was just so relaxing. It was hard to be stressed around him.
“I was just . . . I got stressed, I guess. All I could think after we left was that you’d turn up at the bar and I wouldn’t be there. That you’d be so mad at me. I was worried and anxious, and I felt ill. Which just made it harder and harder to eat. We were on the move and things were so unsettled. I’ve always hated feeling unsettled. Having things changing all the time. I didn’t want to leave that day. I really wish I’d been able to message you. But I couldn’t and I . . . I . . .”
She was gasping for breath by now, so he drew her onto his lap
“Easy, baby. It’s all right.” He rubbed her back with his hand.
Tears filled her eyes. “It’s not. It’s really not, though. I hurt you. You were so angry with me. You . . . you looked at me like you . . . like you hated me.”
“Shh. There’s no way I could ever hate you,” he reassured her.