Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 113142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
I tightened my hand on my coffee cup. I bet they fucking did.
“You should do what is right for you, Ally. Not them.”
She blinked at my words but didn’t say anything.
I showed her some pictures I had taken of her and Elena. I taught her how to go forward on the screen and sat back, watching as she looked at the photos. When she frowned and her fingers flew to her head, I sat forward. I already knew that meant something was upsetting her and causing her pain. “What’s wrong?”
She held up the camera to show me. It was a picture I’d taken of her and me—the camera turned toward us, held out at arm’s length. Her head was nestled into my neck, a warm smile lighting her eyes. I was nuzzling her hair with the silliest grin on my face. We had just made love, and I’d grabbed the camera to capture the look of pleasure she was wearing.
“What is this?”
“We were goofing around.”
She studied the picture for a minute and then handed me back my camera, looking down at the table. Once again, she began to massage her temples, and I lifted the camera, calling her name quietly. When she glanced up, I kept my finger pressed, letting the camera take shot after shot until the frown left her face and she smiled. “What are you doing?”
“Goofing around again.”
She shook her head, still smiling. “Stop it.”
I grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”
Every day I could, I saw her. Coffee. A walk. I talked her into lunch one day and took her to the pizza place she liked so much—where I taught her how to really eat pizza. I hated watching her eat with utensils again, but at least I got her to eat more than one piece. She looked around more than once, frowning, but I didn’t push her.
Some days she was shy and tentative. Other days her smile was easier. I tried pressing a little more each day. I would drop a hint or a memory and see what happened. It always hit me like a fist to the gut when she didn’t show a flicker of recognition when I spoke. Other times I saw the smallest of sparks. Often what followed were her fingers pressed to her head. I always knew when to stop since I hated seeing her in pain. But I had to keep pushing. I had too much to lose otherwise.
I took her for a picnic to the park we’d been to before. She sat on the blanket, looking around, quiet.
“Have I been here before?”
“Yes.”
“With you?”
“Yes.”
She ran her fingers over the bark of the tree, frowning, then rubbed her head.
“You liked picnics, Ally. Especially with me. You could be yourself.”
She nodded, confused. “I get the feeling I could always be myself with you, Adam.”
“Always.”
I left it at that, hoping the memories would stir in her head when she was alone.
The days I didn’t see her were endless. I worried constantly. Emma helped when she was in town, and we kept in touch. Bradley was in Calgary most of the time, although he texted a lot. Sarah was busy with wedding details and her other activities. Ronald was never around, it seemed, so I managed to see Ally most days. But when I didn’t, I was on edge somehow, worried they would figure out I was back and do something drastic. One day while she went to the washroom, I grabbed her cell phone off the table and got her number. I didn’t dare put mine in hers, but at least I now had her information. I remained vigilant and staggered the times I saw her so our meetings didn’t cause any suspicion. Sarah didn’t seem to care that Ally went out for a walk to the park every day. She thought she had full control over Ally and wasn’t worried. I loved every moment I had with my girl—often they were far too short, but I lived for each of them.
She no longer pulled back when I touched her hand. Instead, she often reached out to me. She leaned into my caress when I would bend down to kiss her goodbye, a small sigh escaping her lips when my mouth touched her cheek. I longed for the day I would feel her mouth underneath mine again. I never pushed the physical aspect, allowing her to feel safe.
I loved making her laugh. Some of the sadness that seemed etched into her skin disappeared when she would see me. I watched it creep back every time we parted. My heart ached when I had to stand and see her walk away. She started asking questions, and I always answered honestly, hoping and praying she would finally ask the one question I was waiting for the most.
I needed her to ask me what we were to each other. Sometimes the way she looked at me made me think she suspected there was something.