Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 38249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
"You think I'm leaving you alone like this?" I snort. "Not happening." She opens her mouth to argue, but I cut her off. "You want ginger tea? Sprite? Crackers?"
She shakes her head, then groans, pressing her palm to her forehead. "I want you to go have Christmas with your family. I'll be fine."
I take her chin in my hand, forcing her to look at me. "Listen, you stubborn little—" I pause, searching for the right word, "—angel. I almost died two days ago, and I've spent the time since falling in love with you. I am not leaving you sick and alone on Christmas now."
She freezes. I freeze. The words just sort of…hang there, echoing off the tile.
Did I really say falling in love? Jesus.
I expect her to yell at me, but she's silent for a full five seconds before she pushes me away, gently but firmly. She doesn't yell. She just completely ignores what I said. "Trent, I mean it. I don't want you to see me like this."
Her bottom lip quivers, and I realize that she did hear me. She's just pretending like hell that she didn't.
"Please."
She sounds so small, so lost. I just want to wrap her up in my arms and never let her go.
I try a different route, desperately trying to avoid backing her into a corner. Desperate to stay right here with her. "You saw me covered in hives, scratching my own ass. You really think a little puke is going to scare me?"
She doesn't smile. She just shakes her head again, panic in her gaze. "I hate being helpless."
I kneel in front of her, one hand on her knee. "You're not helpless. You're sick. It happens to everyone."
"I can take care of myself," she whispers vehemently.
I sigh, realizing this is bigger than just the stomach bug. This is about her—her history, her trauma, all the shit she never says out loud. She doesn't know how to let people care for her because no one ever did. And I just told her that I care a whole helluva lot.
Of course, she's freaking the fuck out. She's sick, and I hit her with the big L-bomb on top of it. The need to run like hell is probably beating at her right now because that's what she knows. That's what she does. She runs. She hides. She's a frightened little lamb, afraid to let herself believe she deserves good things in life.
My chest aches at the realization, but I don't push her. I'm afraid if I do, I'll push her right out of my life. And I can't risk that. It'll fucking kill me.
Instead, I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, then kiss her forehead. "Fine," I say quietly. "I'll give you a little space."
It's only a little lie. There's not a chance in hell that I'm letting her spend Christmas alone.
"Thank you," she whispers, her voice shaking.
I help her back to bed, tucking her in with three extra blankets and leaving a trash can by the side, just in case. She won't look at me, but I sit on the edge of the mattress until she settles.
"I'll be back as soon as I can," I promise once I'm dressed. "If you need anything, text me. I don't care if you're half-dead, I'm coming back."
She nods, and when I lean in to kiss her forehead again, she actually melts beneath me. But she doesn't say anything.
And when I close the bedroom door behind me, I can hear her crying through the wall.
It fucking breaks me.
Imake it back a little over an hour later, with a trunk full of groceries and a small box of fudge sweating through my jacket pocket.
Dani is bundled up on the couch, her face buried in a pillow, looking like she went three rounds with Krampus and lost. She peeks up when she hears the door, her eyes rimmed red and her hair stuck to her cheek.
She's beautiful. Even now.
I set the grocery bags on the counter and strip off my gloves, which are still damp from the six-block hike through slush. I almost trip over a fuzzy blanket in the middle of the floor.
"Hey," I say, trying for casual and failing.
She blinks at me, as if she didn't expect to see me again. "You're here."
"Obviously." I unload the bags one by one: crackers, soup cans, Gatorade in every color, a whole chicken, and two boxes of ginger tea. I save the fudge for last, setting it in front of her on the coffee table like it's the Hope Diamond.
She stares at it. Then stares at me. "You're insane," she finally whispers.
"I'm persistent," I correct, kicking off my shoes and joining her on the couch. She's buried under four blankets, but I wedge in next to her, letting her absorb my body heat.