Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 153571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 768(@200wpm)___ 614(@250wpm)___ 512(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 768(@200wpm)___ 614(@250wpm)___ 512(@300wpm)
That should scare me because I don't even know what the fuck to do when it comes to love. I've never wanted that. I've never had it. I've always sworn to myself that I wouldn't let it happen to me. I wouldn't be like Brady, pulling a woman into this kind of life. But I fell for Mila anyway.
Because that's the kind of power that gorgeous little blonde has over me. It's not rational or right, but it's true all the same. I'm in love with my daughter's best friend…and I'm willing to do whatever I have to do—face whatever I have to face—to keep her.
I take my time walking back to the condo, trying to work through everything in my mind. I don't know what comes next or how I'm going to deal with the fear. I have no fucking clue what I'm going to tell Tahani about me and Mila, or what I'm going to do if she flips out. A thousand obstacles still litter our path, and I don't know what to do about any of them.
All I know is that I want Mila with me for as long as she's willing. We'll figure out the rest as it comes.
For right now, all I want to do is get back to her and fix what I fucked up. If she lets me.
Christ. I can't get the heartbreaking look on her face when I stormed off out of my mind. I promised her I wouldn't hurt her like her dick of an ex did, and then I did it anyway. I flipped out on her and made her cry.
Never again, baby. It won't ever happen again.
I fucking hate how sad she looked because of me.
Until recently, she never told me about her father, but Tahani did. I knew years ago what he put her through after her mom died, how he neglected and hurt her. She's had more than her fair share of sadness in life. I don't want to be another motherfucker who breaks her heart.
I want to be the man who carries the burden for her so she doesn't have to do it alone. She's carried it long enough.
Yeah, I love her.
By the time I make it back to the condo, the sun hangs almost directly overhead. The time on my phone shows it's almost noon. I was gone a lot longer than I expected. Long enough to seriously fucking worry that she may have packed her shit and left me.
I rarely get nervous, but I'm fucking sweating when I let myself in through the door on the back deck. My mouth is dry, too. I'm almost thirty-nine years old, and I've never told a woman the shit I'm about to tell Mila. Nervous doesn't even begin to explain how I feel as I pull the door closed behind me.
A quick glance around tells me that she isn't in the kitchen. Aside from the coffee still sitting in the pot and the half-finished mug I left on the countertop when I carried her back to bed this morning, the big kitchen is spotless. I take a deep breath and pace toward the living room, praying like hell she didn't leave me. The blinds in the living room are still closed for privacy. The television is off, and the couch looks untouched.
My feet freeze in place as I turn towards the stairs, my heart hammering against my chest like a battering ram. Panic consumes me as I see Mila lying at the bottom of the staircase, her damp blonde hair fanning out around her motionless body. A sickening fear grips me, squeezing my insides until I can barely breathe.
Mila.
Oh, God. No.
"Mila!" I roar. My voice echoes through the empty house as I sprint toward her without hesitation. For the second time in less than three hours, I'm terrified out of my fucking mind for this woman who owns every part of me. I collapse to my knees beside her, shaking. So fucking afraid I feel like I'm going to throw up.
I want to pull her into my arms, but I know better than to move her, so I fight the urge. My training kicks in, and I quickly lean over, assessing her condition. A relieved cry breaks from my lips when I see her chest moving and feel her expel a breath. I run my hands over her body, checking for broken bones and not finding any.
I don't remember the last time I cried, but when she whimpers, and her eyes flutter, I want to sob.
"Baby?" My voice cracks as I try to hide the desperation in it, trying not to scare her. I lift her carefully into my arms, falling backward onto my ass as I pull her up against my chest. Once she's in my arms, I check her over again. There's a knot on the back of her head, but she's not bleeding, and nothing seems to be broken.