Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 99494 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99494 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
“They’re somewhere in one of the boxes in the living room. I’ll just sleep with the sheet and blanket I’ve been using and find them tomorrow.” I help him push the headboard up against the wall and then look around the room. It’s smaller than I thought it was—or it seems smaller, now that my queen-size bed, dresser, and side tables are taking up most of the space.
“What are you going to do with the rest of your stuff?”
“Liam said I could just put everything in his storage unit, but I’m not sure it will all fit. So I might have to rent something myself.”
“Since I helped him put all of his shit in there, I can tell you now that you’re going to have to rent something. How long are you planning on staying with Kourtney?”
“I don’t know for sure.” I follow him into the hall and walk to the end of my mattress so I can push it into the room while he pulls it, doing most of the work. “But I’m thinking six months, maybe a little longer.”
“Do you think you’ll ever go back to Chicago?” He steps into my space, and my muscles bunch when he presses his hand against my stomach to move me out of the way so he can tip the mattress onto the frame.
“No.” I rest my hand where he just touched me, still feeling it there. “My plan is to stay here,” I say, as he walks around to the other side of the mattress to tug it over the rest of the way while I push it from my side. “Mom and Dad aren’t getting any younger, and I just want to be closer to them.” I blow a piece of hair out of my face, and he watches it float through the air before meeting my gaze once more.
“I get that,” he replies softly, pulling his eyes off mine to look around. “Do you want help with anything else tonight?”
“No. Honestly, you’ve already done too much. I owe you one.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, it’s late. I can get everything sorted this weekend.” I step out of my bedroom, and he follows me down the hall and into the living room, where he grabs his coat from its spot over the back of the couch. I move past him to the door and open it. “Thanks again for everything.”
“No problem.” He stops so close I’m forced to tip my head back to meet his gaze. I would be a liar if I said that I didn’t feel my stomach flutter at the sight of him towering over me, with his dark hair a mess and the scruff covering his jaw.
“I’m next door if you need anything.”
“Thanks.” My muscles relax, and I let out the breath I’ve been holding when he steps outside.
“Make sure you lock up.”
“I will.”
“Night, Oli.”
“Night, Bax,” I whisper, and he looks over his shoulder when he gets to the bottom step, his eyes sweeping over me and seeming to linger before he drops his gaze to his boots and makes his way down the sidewalk.
I wait until he reaches his driveway before I shut and lock the door, then turn toward the living room. I think about looking for the sheets for my bed, but instead, I go to the kitchen, take out the spaghetti I made last night, and put it in the microwave.
As I’m sliding some garlic bread with shredded cheese under the broiler in the oven, my cell phone on the counter rings. Seeing it’s Rebecca calling, I slide my finger across the screen and put it to my ear.
“Hey! How was—?” I cut myself off when I hear her sob. “Oh no, what happened?”
“He’s dating someone.”
“What?” I whisper, my heart physically hurting from the pain I hear in her voice.
“That’s why he wanted to meet up. He said he thought he should tell me in person rather than over the phone.”
“Oh, Reb.”
“We just broke up.” Her voice cracks. “He told me he loved me. He said he didn’t want to break up when I told him that we should take a break. Now, he’s dating someone else, and it’s apparently serious.”
“What a dick,” I say quietly.
“I know.” She drags in a shaky breath. “I’m glad I didn’t move in with him.”
“Me too,” I agree, feeling like an ass for making her feel bad about her decision when obviously she was right and I was wrong about him.
“Can I come see you?” she asks, the plea clear in her voice.
“Of course you can.”
“Okay, I’m going to talk to Helen tomorrow and see if I can take a few days off. Maybe I’ll fly in at the end of next week and stay through the weekend.”
“I’d love that. We can explore Nashville together,” I tell her, the idea replacing some of the guilt I was feeling with a bit of excitement.