Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 81333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
“I didn’t open this as a favor to either of us,” I tell him. “I opened it to tell you that you need to leave.”
“Layla . . .”
“I’m just full of things you don’t want to hear, aren’t I?” I spew bitterly.
“Will you stop it?”
“Get. Off. My. Porch.”
“We need to talk.”
Snorting, I go to close the door in his face but his hand stops it mid-push. He doesn’t cross the threshold with his feet, but he certainly traipses right over that line with the look he’s shooting me.
“I gave you a chance to talk,” I say. “And talk you did. I have every word you tossed my way burned into my memory.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I don’t care.”
His shoulders fall forward as one arm reaches for the side of his jaw and works it back and forth. He focuses on something on the ground and it reminds me of a little boy that just got in trouble at school.
Like the universe decided to let me get a glimpse into the future, a series of feelings, more than pictures, floods my senses. A little boy’s laugh rattles through my ears, the smell of baby soap so real I actually flinch. My heart twists as I can almost see a spray of blond hair and the sweetest little blue eyes—eyes that remind me a lot of the ones looking back at me.
At some point, Branch has lifted his gaze to mine and something passes between us. It’s a feeling of confusion, of fear, maybe, mixed with some kind of resolution to have our way, whatever that is.
I chalk it up to the hurricane of emotions swirling inside and the mothering vibe I’ve been trying to harness and step to the side. Without giving up any of the hostility I have for him, I let him in.
As he passes, he bows his head, and I let out a little huff for good measure. The door pops as it closes and Branch turns to face me.
“What happened to you?” I ask, motioning towards the swelling.
“I ran into something.”
“Okay,” I say, not giving him the satisfaction of pressing for details. “What do you want? You have five minutes.”
“I think we both know this is going to take more than five minutes.”
“Then you better get talking and fit in as much as you can.”
His cracked lip sticks out a little. “I would start if I knew where to begin.”
“This is my point,” I say, exhaling sharply. “You don’t even have a clue what to say, and I don’t have the time or energy to listen to you figure it out. God knows I’ve had to figure it out on my own.”
When he doesn’t respond, I give up. I walk away and into the kitchen and hope that when I turn around, he’ll be gone. Yet, when I do, he’s standing in the doorway.
“Um, how do you feel?” he asks carefully.
“Fine.”
He nods, like he’s unsure as to whether he has the authority to even ask such questions. “So, you’re doing okay?”
“Do you even care?”
“Of course I care,” he draws, his brows pulling together. “I’m not a complete asshole, Layla.”
I give him a look, one that questions that statement, and he absorbs it completely. His shoulder leans against the wall and he scoops up a deep, weighted breath. “I’m trying to do what’s right here.”
“I don’t want you to do what’s right. I don’t want you coming all the way down here, which, by the way, was totally unnecessary, and asking me how I am like I’m some kind of rabid monkey. I’m a grown woman, Branch. I’m intelligent. I’m capable. I can handle all of this and I will handle all of this. If it’s too much for you to deal with, I get it. I’m not asking you to.”
I fight the wetness welling up in my eyes, determined to not let him see me cry. He sees the break and starts to move off the doorframe but stops when I take a step back.
“This whole thing just threw me for a loop,” he says. “I just, uh, I need you to have a little patience.”
“Oh, because this is about you, right?” I scoff, turning my back to him.
The need for a hug overwhelms me, the need for someone to tell me this is going to be okay. I don’t even try to dismiss the part of my brain that screams for him to come to me and just be here, tell me he’ll be here, because it’s too loud to ignore.
As the tears I’ve been struggling to keep at bay begin their journey down my cheeks, I let myself just feel the emotions as they come my way. My back vibrates as the tears fall harder and despite knowing he’s in the same room as me, I still feel so alone.