Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 80304 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80304 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
“W-What?”
“You’re a smart woman, Crosby. Read between the lines.”
I shake my head as I lose my battle with my tears. Surely, he’s not saying what I think he’s saying. No. He can’t be. No. Just no. I can’t do this with him. I can’t deal. I swallow past the lump the size of Texas in the back of my throat and square my shoulders. “Leave.” My voice is calm and quiet, nothing like the war that’s being waged inside my head and, if I’m honest, my heart.
I let Rushton get close. I knew better. I should have stayed away from him, but somehow his life became intertwined with mine. From his niece being my student to his sisters-in-law befriending me. Hell, his brothers are my neighbors. I couldn’t escape him, and I can be honest with myself.
I didn’t want to escape him.
However, it’s all too much. I had a plan. I have to stick to the plan. Maybe in a few months, if he doesn’t hate me by then. Shit, what happens if he can never forgive me, and I have to live in this town and watch him with other women? What happens when I have to watch him fall in love with his forever love and witness the happy life they build together every single day?
He’s pacing again. “Can we talk about this?” he asks.
“We’ve said all there is to say. I was honest with you. I can’t do this with you. Not yet,” I add. “You knew about my reservations before last night. You said you would be here waiting for me. Last night we pretended for a while, and now you’re changing your mind.”
“I’m not changing my mind!” he roars. “I’m not the one leaving. You’re pushing me out the fucking door.”
“We were pretending!” I shout back at him.
He stops pacing and opens his arms wide. “Look at me,” he pleads. His voice is soft. “Look at what you see. I’m a man standing before you, begging for time with you. I just want you to give us a chance. Last night… last night changed my life.” He speaks with so much conviction in his voice, it’s impossible not to believe him.
“I believe you,” I tell him. “But that doesn’t mean I change my plan. I’ve been what others needed me to be in the past, and I still got shit on. I can’t do that this time, Rush. I can’t put aside the plan I made for my future and risk breaking both of our hearts.” I take a deep breath. “Please, leave. I just… I need you to go.”
“The tears that are sliding down your face and the crack inside my chest are proof you’ve already done that.” He strides toward me and bends to press a kiss to the top of my head. “I have to go because I hate seeing your tears, knowing that I’m the cause of them. I’m sorry for yelling. I see everything I’ve ever wanted slipping through my fingers, and I can’t stifle the desperation. You asked me to leave, and I’m going.” His index finger pushes up on my chin so that he can look into my eyes. “I’m leaving this house, but I’m not leaving you. I need you to understand that, Crosby. I’m not walking out on you. I’m taking some time to cool off because I hate that I’m making you cry. I hate that I’m raising my voice at you, but know this. I want you. I want us, and you pushing me out that door isn’t going to change that.”
A sob breaks free from my chest when his soft lips press against mine. “I’ll call you later. If you change your mind about dinner, text me, call me, hell, just show up. You’re always welcome.” He kisses my forehead this time. “I’d love for you to be there with me.”
His words hit me. He’s not inviting me as a friend of the family. This invitation is more. It’s him offering me a piece of himself. “How will you get home?” I ask. “I’ll take you.”
“No.” He stands and shakes his head. “I’ll walk next door and have one of the twins take me.” He waits for a few heartbeats to see if I’m going to stop him. He begs me with his eyes to ask him to stay. When I don’t, he takes a step back.
“I’m sorry,” I say, feeling a fresh set of tears building behind my eyes.
“I’m not walking out on you,” he reminds me. “Remember that.” With that, he turns and leaves the house shirtless. The tears break free when I realize his T-shirt, the very one I slept in last night, is lying in the dirty clothes basket in my bathroom.
Pushing back from the table, I lock my front door and rush down the hall to my bedroom. Sliding under the covers with his smell surrounding me, I sob as the pain of pushing him away hits me like a thousand pounds of bricks.