Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 147540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
He wasn’t sure what she meant, not entirely.
But he found out.
They stayed together from their sophomore year in high school to her sophomore year at the University of Colorado.
They’d given each other their virginity.
She’d been the first woman he’d loved, something he told her, and she was the first woman whose love he’d earned.
But then he’d decided to become a firefighter, she’d decided to become a doctor, and a number of long, painful conversations brought them to the conclusion that his career, the length of her studies, and the physical distance between them were not going to be conducive to a long-term relationship.
That had been their end.
It had fucked them both up so much, they kept in such close touch after carrying through their decision, they ended up helping each other to get over the breakup, and found they’d been wrong.
Distance and separate career trajectories did not end their relationship. It became long-term.
They stopped being lovers, but they’d never lost each other as friends.
She’d taken a long weekend off to come down and boss everyone around who was on his treatment team after they’d taken his legs.
She was now married, had a kid and was in the midst of building a thriving practice as a neurologist.
Peri had looked like Rachel.
But Rix was sensing Alex had her substance.
The Eagles filled the cab, telling them to take it easy, and he suggested, “How about I’ll be navigator, hey?”
“Yeah,” she agreed.
“Eagles good?”
“Yeah,” she repeated.
He sat back and shared, “No one asked that before.”
“Sorry?”
He looked at her profile.
She had her pigtails again.
Shit.
“About my chair and legs,” he explained.
She glanced at him, then back to the road, and reiterated, “I’m sorry I did.”
“That’s not the point I was making. What I’m trying to say is, your question took me by surprise. To be clear, it was a good surprise. It’s annoying as hell, everyone dancing around shit I have to deal with every minute of every day.”
“Yes,” she said softly, “I can imagine.”
Her voice normally?
Killer.
Her voice soft?
It hit his balls and drove right up to his throat.
He shifted in his seat, reminded himself this was Alex, his co-worker, a woman he had a lot in common with, which meant he knew they could be friends, therefore he had to keep his mind off his balls and on building that between them.
Because the Director of Programs worked closely with the Director of Outreach, so they needed that.
But also, he liked her.
And the only reason wasn’t because she’d never known him as anything other than the man he was now, and she was that into him. Far from it.
But that reason still felt fucking good.
“So it was a pleasant surprise, but I had to wrap my head around it,” he finished.
“Okay, cool,” she replied. “But…”
She stopped talking and didn’t start again.
“But?” he prompted.
“I’m just, I mean, I know it’s not my place, but people dance around it with you in mind. Like, I thought I offended you, and that’s the last thing I want to do.”
“I get that.”
“I see it’s still going to be annoying,” she mumbled.
“Yup.”
“And you can probably sense people are curious, or worried, and you want to say, ‘Listen, I’m still Rix. If you want to know, ask. If I don’t want to talk about it, I’ll tell you.’ But it stinks, because that puts you on the spot to put that out there, and that’s not fair.”
He stared at her profile and grunted, “Exactly.”
He watched her nod then she said, “I don’t know if people say this, but they should, and I’ve, um…well, I’ve wanted to say it to you for a long time. But what you did, I mean, what you used to do, it means a lot to me. The risk you took in doing it, the price you paid. If I didn’t…if there weren’t places that you protected for me to lose myself in. Whole vast spaces where I can let all that lives in me out, I, um…” She took a second before she finished, “I don’t know what I’d do. So, thank you.”
It took him a second to respond, and when he did, he did it quietly, because he was moved, and what she said meant a lot to him. “You’re welcome, honey.”
“Did that make you…uncomfortable?”
“Not even a little bit,” he told her, then went on, “Alex, just be yourself, all right? Like you said, if I’m not down with what we’re talking about or things you’re saying, I’ll steer us clear of them. Yeah?”
“Okay.”
“And same goes for you, seeing as I’m right now going to ask about all that lives in you that needs vast space to let it out.”
It took her a second to reply, and when she did, she sounded pleasantly surprised.
“I think you know what that means.”
He gave her a break, took his gaze from her, and watched the landscape roll by as she navigated the winding, two-lane mountain road.