Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 111676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
“Why?”
“Why what? Why am I not planning on robbing First National Bank? To start with, that’s a felony…”
“Why help me?” I needed to know.
“Because, like I said, if I don’t, you are going to end up in jail.” He studied me for a second, his brows creasing.
I knew Wolf, knew when he was lying. Or at least avoiding the truth because he pretty much never outright lied.
“And then what are your parents going to do?”
Lose their house. Their daughter. But if Wolf lost his scholarship, his shot at the NFL… He’d already given up the scholarship to the college he’d really wanted to go to for me. I had already screwed up his life plenty.
“You’re in your last year. After this, you can help them. Legally.” He tucked a stray chunk of hair behind my ear. “Don’t screw that shit up.”
I knew if I dropped out now, I’d forever be trapped in the minimum wage hamster wheel. It was the last thing I wanted to do. Or I could take his help…
“You can either help me help you,” he said, “or I’ll help you myself.”
As selfish as it felt, I wanted nothing more than to reach out and take the metaphorical hand he was offering. “Okay.” That one word felt binding somehow, as if it had initiated a subtle shift in the air between Wolf and me.
The smile that pulled at his lips was like the sun breaking through black storm clouds, and I instantly felt the weight lift from my shoulders. Wolf had always made it feel as if he’d hold up the entire world to keep it from crushing me. Until that moment, I hadn’t realized how much I’d needed someone—no, just him. I’d had Cassie and Monroe, but Wolf was, well, Wolf. No matter how much I’d tried to be fine without him, he would always feel like my protector. My safe space, my person…
I swallowed around the lump in my throat, trying to keep it together. Squishy’s nose poked out of the comforter before he crawled out and plopped down in front of me. He licked a tear off my cheek, and for some reason, empathy from an animal was what sent me over the edge. “You’re supposed to be an asshole,” I cried at him.
“He is. He’s just a compassionate asshole.”
“Don’t be mean to him,” I sobbed. Over the dog.
On a chuckle, Wolf stroked him before pulling me against his hard chest. “It’ll be okay, Jade.” He pressed my cheek against the warm material of his shirt, and he placed a kiss on the top of my head. “I promise.”
That made me cry more. When Wolf made a promise, he kept it.
I’d forgotten how soothing and safe it felt to have his arms wrapped around me, and despite the tears, it was the closest I’d come to feeling happy in as long as I could remember. That terrified me.
When my tears had calmed a few minutes later, Wolf released me. “You know what we need?” he said, pushing up from the mattress. “Family Guy.”
I fought a smile. We used to watch that show all the time.
He grabbed his laptop from his desk, then came back to the bed, pulling up a Netflix account I was sure had been stolen—unless his name was now Bob.
The theme song came on, and he reclined back on the bed, pulling me with him.
I settled against his chest once more and pulled his scent deep into my lungs, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. In many ways, it was.
The rhythmic beat of his heart thrummed against my ear, trying to lull me to sleep. But I fought it, fearing this bubble of temporary happiness would burst the second I closed my eyes, like a magic spell that ran out at first light or something. I took a deep breath, trying to displace the knot of dread in my chest. His kindness would only make our entire situation hurt more in the morning. I knew how to love Wolf, and I’d learned how to hate him so that I didn’t love him. But the middle ground? I didn’t know how to navigate that. How to take his help without falling for him.
The rumble of Wolf’s laughter beneath my cheek pulled me from my negative thoughts. I hadn’t heard him laugh since before we’d broken up. It was like being reminded of a song I used to love, one I’d forgotten about.
“I don’t get how Stewie can’t be your favorite,” he said.
I focused on the eloquently speaking baby and the talking dog on the screen. Yeah, when I thought about it, this show made no sense. But it was Wolf’s favorite.
“Bryan is an alcoholic, novelist dog.”
Wolf turned his head against the pillow, one of his dark brows inquisitively raised. “Is he a novelist?”