Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 36506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 183(@200wpm)___ 146(@250wpm)___ 122(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 183(@200wpm)___ 146(@250wpm)___ 122(@300wpm)
“Ugh,” I groan. “Why do you have to be so reasonable? It’s annoying.”
She snorts out a laugh. “You’re welcome.”
Overcome with sudden emotion, I reach over the console to hug her. She holds me tight and kisses my head. I’m glad I applied for this job with them because I gained a great friend who feels like the big sister I never had.
“Thanks for everything,” I murmur.
“Of course. We’re practically family now. The kids call you Auntie Em.”
My heart swells. Her young boys adore me, and June thinks I hang the moon.
“I guess my pitiful vacation from reality is over, huh?”
She pats my head. “It was fun while it lasted. Time to be the strong, badass woman I know you are.”
Ava is right.
No more crying. No more hiding from my problems.
It’s time to fight for what I want.
What do I want?
I want my relationship back with my mother, but I also want Reid. There has to be a middle ground, and I’m determined to find it.
Reid
What’s that smell?
Groaning, I lift my arm and sniff my pit. Fuck. That’s me. When did I shower last? The days and nights have blurred together. I’ve spent most of that time lying in my bed, inhaling Emma’s lingering scent, or standing in her bedroom, aching to see her.
So why don’t you call her, asshole?
My heart rate quickens. I know I need to reach out to her, but as time passes, the guilt swallows me whole. It’s better this way. I’m sure she’s made up with her mother and they’re living with Amara’s employer. Hopefully Amara is giving Emma the attention she deserves.
Like a fool, I grab my phone and stare at the last text from Emma. It was from days ago, before the blowup. I’m desperate for any sort of correspondence from her. Would it hurt for her to at least let me know she’s doing okay?
You can’t have it both ways, Reid.
Either you want her to go off and be happy, or you want to be in her life. Not both.
A knock on the door has me jolting upright. Is it her? Has Emma come back to see me? As much as I want to believe that, I know better. The only people who’ve come by are Cole, Brayden, and my preacher friend, Easton. Cole to bring beer, Brayden to bring food, and Easton to bring encouragement. Without them, I might’ve died from malnourishment and depression.
The knock becomes more persistent as I clomp down the stairs. Maybe it’s Maggie. That old lady has no qualms about beating on my door all hours of the day to demand I fix something in her unit. To be honest, I’d like the break. Maybe repairing her AC unit for the eightieth time would a good distraction from the pain wreaking havoc inside my chest.
I fling open the door, half expecting to see the old curmudgeon, but it’s not her at all. The woman standing before me is beautiful and young. Well, not that young.
“Amara,” I say flatly, eyes darting past her, hoping to see Emma nearby. “Morning.”
“It’s three in the afternoon, Reid. May I come in?”
I wave her inside, unsure why she’d ask this time. The other day, she let herself inside without permission and everything good and wonderful exploded in my hands. Once she passes, I close the door behind her. She sniffs the air and sighs heavily.
“What?” I ask grumpily as I make my way over to the couch. “What do you want, Amara?”
“You stink. Go shower, please.”
We have a silent stare off, both of us stubbornly refusing to back down. Since this is so far from her typical meek, pitiful behavior, I relent and do as I’m told. When I return fifteen minutes, feeling admittedly better, I find her scrubbing the kitchen sink. All the dishes have been done, the floor has been swept, and she’s organized the mail for me.
“Uh, thanks,” I grunt, shifting on my feet.
“Have you eaten today?”
“Just stop already. Why are you here?”
Ignoring me, she digs around in the fridge and finds some leftovers Brayden brought by. After nuking a plate, she hands it to me and then points toward the living room. When she finally joins me, she hands me an opened bottle of beer and keeps one to herself.
“I’m confused,” I state as I set the beer down on the coffee table so I can shovel in the piping hot food. “Last time I saw you, you wanted to murder me. Later, I found out you brought the sheriff by. Now you’re…” I wave my fork toward the kitchen and then stab more of my food with it. “This. Whatever this is.”
It’s strange to have her doing these things for me. I always took care of everything. Never the other way around.
A flash of guilt shines in her eyes and she rubs her thumb over the lip of her bottle. “I came to apologize.”