Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 77309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
“Come with me.” I reach out my hand. “I want to tell you something.”
He stares at me. I can tell he’s not sure if he wants to do this. But I don’t move, keeping my hand extended, until he finally takes it. I don’t know what I’m thinking, but I feel my mind lock into place. A decision forms, one I’m pretty sure will take me somewhere I never imagined I’d go, but I can’t stop myself now.
“Where?” he asks.
“Just, come on. Don’t make this hard on me.”
He looks confused, but he takes my hand. His fingers are strong and callused. Sometimes I forget how hard he can be.
I lead him to my bedroom.
“Isabel,” he says as I take him inside.
“Just be quiet, okay?” I push him toward the bed. “Sit down.”
He stares at me, but he sits.
I shut the door behind me. I’m so nervous I could scream and that still wouldn’t burn off any of this energy. Butterflies rampage through my guts. I take a deep breath and I focus on him.
He’s Conlan. The boss I’ve always hated. Cocky, over the top, frustrating, but also beautiful, kind, helpful, generous. He’s Conlan, with all his contradictions and flaws. There is no perfect man, no perfect person, but this is Conlan. Gorgeous, pain in my ass, Conlan.
Nothing’s changed.
I take a deep breath. “When I was fifteen, my dad got cancer. One year later, he was dead.”
Conlan’s head tilts. “I’m sorry.”
“We don’t have any family. My mom left when I was little, and my dad was an only child. My grandparents passed when I was ten, so when things started to look bad for him, I stepped in to help because there was nobody else. All that years, from fifteen to sixteen, I basically spent it taking care of my dying father, and I don’t think I can ever explain the scars that left in me.” I lean back against the door, trying not to think of my dad, the man that loved me the most in the world, lying in bed too sick and exhausted to move, an emaciated skeleton of the human I remember.
“That must have been terrible,” he says softly.
“It was too much for me. I did what I had to do because he was everything to me, but it was way too much. I still have nightmares about taking care of him like that, about watching him slowly die over weeks and months, about those awful last nights we spent together. I slept on his floor, listening to him struggle to breathe. We talked as much as he could, but mostly, his hand dangled over the side of the bed and I held it. I’m grateful I got the chance to be there for him when he needed me the most, but it fucked me up, Conlan, because I wasn’t enough. I couldn’t save him.”
“You were a kid. That was never on you.”
“I know, I know that, but I still think about it. What if I had done things differently? Been better somehow? Made him more comfortable? Could he have survived? I know that’s not how it works but I’ve been plagued with these questions for a long time. I think it’s part of why I can’t leave that house. It’s all I have left of my dad, and if I sell it, I’ll be letting him down a second time.”
“You didn’t let him down. You stepped up when you had to.” Conlan stands. “I’m so sorry you went through that.”
“You told me about Eva, and I guess I want you to know about what happened with my dad. In a lot of ways, that defines who I am now. I can’t… I’m afraid that I’ll screw up. That I won’t be enough. And if I get close, it’ll happen again.”
He takes a deep breath. “I understand what you mean,” he says, exhaling. “But you are enough. You’re more than enough, and what you did for your father took real strength. You should be proud.”
I blink back tears. “That’s what he said to me a few days before he was gone. That he was proud.”
“Good. You should hold on to that instead of all that other stuff. Remember how much he loved you.”
“I try to.” I wipe my face and try to smile. “I don’t talk about that much. It still hurts, if I’m honest. But I’m glad I told you.”
“I’m glad you felt like you could share with me.”
“I understand I didn’t react well last night. You scared me with that last part, but it’s okay. You’re not a monster.” I step toward him and touch his skin with my palms. He’s still warm. So damn warm. “I don’t think I’m a monster, either.”
“You aren’t even close.” He brushes my hair from my face.
I stand on my toes and kiss him. Just our lips barely touching. But a thrill runs into my core, chasing away the pain, chasing away the horrible memories. I kiss him again, wanting more of that feeling, wanting him so badly it hurts. I kiss him again, and again, and soon our kiss deepens into something starving, some good.