Total pages in book: 198
Estimated words: 186242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 931(@200wpm)___ 745(@250wpm)___ 621(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 186242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 931(@200wpm)___ 745(@250wpm)___ 621(@300wpm)
He didn’t start the movie right away though, and when I glanced at him, I could tell his gaze was trained on a spot along the tent wall.
I didn’t want to ask what he was looking at.
And I didn’t have to because his gray eyes flicked to me, and the smile that had just been lingering there a moment ago was gone, and he said, voice steady, “You reminded me of my mom.”
The mom he didn’t like? I winced. “I’m sorry.”
Rhodes shook his head. “No, I’m sorry. You don’t look alike or act alike, angel. She was just . . . She was beautiful like you are. You-can’t-look-away gorgeous, my uncle used to say,” he explained softly, like he was still trying to process whatever it was he was thinking exactly.
“Looking back on it, I’m pretty sure she was bipolar. People, including my father, let her get away with a lot because she looked the way she did. And it was a shitty instinct that made me think you could be like that too.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I’m sorry.”
Something really heavy churned in my chest, and I nodded at him. “It’s okay. I understand. You weren’t that mean.”
His eyebrows went up a little. “That mean?”
“That’s not what I meant. You weren’t mean. I just . . . thought you didn’t like me. But I promise, I’m not that bad of a person. And I don’t like hurting most people’s feelings. I still think about the time when I was in third grade and hid my Halloween candy instead of sharing it with Clara when she came over to my house.”
The softest little snort went through his nose.
“Mental illness is hard. With a parent especially, I think. My mom battled depression when I was growing up, and it was hard for me too. It still is, I guess. She was really good at hiding it, but when it got to be too much, she would pretty much be catatonic. I thought I could fix it, but that’s not the way it works, you know? Stuff like that sticks with you. I wondered . . . what had happened. With her, I mean. Your mom.”
The way he shook his head, like he was reliving some of the things he’d gone through with her, hurt my heart. I couldn’t imagine what she had done to make a man like Rhodes look the way he did right then. Maybe this was why his relationship with his dad was so strained. I didn’t want to ask. Didn’t want to rehash more hurt when he was being so kind. So I settled for touching his arm. “But thank you for apologizing.”
His gaze went straight to the place where my fingers were. That thick, muscular throat worked, and slowly, oh so slowly, he lifted his gaze to mine and just watched me.
I didn’t know what to say for once, so I didn’t say anything at all. What I wanted to do was hug him, to tell him that there were some things you could never truly get over. What I actually did was pull my hand back and wait. And what was only a deep breath and a few moments later, he started talking again, his voice only sounding a little bit different, huskier, if anything. “Thanks for what you did with my dad. For what you said.”
He had heard me. I waved him off. “Not even a big deal, and it was only the truth.”
“It is a big deal,” he argued gently. “He called to ask when he could visit again. I know what he’s like . . . Thank you.”
“I’m glad he took it to heart, and seriously, it’s nothing. You should meet my ex’s mom. I’ve got a lot of experience.”
That gray gaze swept down to my mouth, and his voice was low. “And thanks for how much you do for Am.”
“Meh. I love that kid. But not in a weird way. He’s just a good, sweet kid, and I’m a lonely old lady that he doesn’t totally hate. Honestly, I think he just misses his mom, and I guess I’m old enough to be kind of a weird mom figure, so he puts up with me.”
“That’s not it,” he claimed, a hint of a smile flashing around the corners of his mouth.
A question bubbled up into my brain. Maybe because he seemed to be in a good mood and I wasn’t sure when the next chance I’d get to ask this would be. Or possibly just because I was nosey and figured I had nothing left to lose except possibly getting a stare in return. So I did it. “Can I ask you something personal?”
He thought about it for a moment before nodding.
All right then. “If you don’t want to answer, you don’t have to, but . . . were you planning on never getting married?”