Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
“No. I haven’t had sleep paralysis once since I left.”
“Damn. That’s insane, and I don’t mean it in a I-don’t-believe-you way. It’s insane because our subconscious knows things we don’t want to admit.”
“Right? I will make a fascinating case study.” She leans back. “Seeing that person…it was like the shadow man all over again and as much as I’ve tried to heal and get over it, so to speak, sometimes it takes me right back to feeling like a helpless little girl who thinks she really does deserve to be treated like shit.”
“PTSD doesn’t just go away. You know that.”
“Yeah. I do. It doesn’t help that Cory and his crazy mother won’t leave me alone. Want to know some tea? His sister, Anna, used to tell me how worried she was about me because she knew Cory was abusive and controlling. She still thinks the whole thing is insane and told me when I ran into her at my niece’s dance recital that she’s embarrassed by their mother’s two year long obsession.”
“Ohhh, a real girl’s girl.”
“Hey, look at you.” Mira smiles. “Using modern terms.”
“I might have watched a few of your recent reels,” I admit. “So I can psychoanalyze you, of course.”
“And how crazy am I, agent?”
I laugh. “You’re up there, but it’s kinda cute.”
“Oh, well, at least it’s cute.” Silence falls between us and when she reaches out to pet her dog, our hands touch. “You’re warm.”
“And your hands are freezing.” I use it as an excuse to take her fingers between mine. She turns her head up, eyes locking with mine. I rub my thumb up and down her index finger and she leans in a bit, lips parting.
My heart speeds up and my dick jumps, wanting so fucking bad to pull her into my lap. Her green eyes widen and she lets out a slow breath. She wants it to.
I shouldn’t. We have a working relationship. It could complicate things. But fuck, this woman is a force of nature and the more time I’ve spend with Mira, the more I want to be around her. She’s irritatingly stubborn at times and very independent. Her past has made it hard to trust and for some unknown reason, I want to prove her wrong and be the person she can depend on.
It’s a feeling I’ve never had for anyone before and it’s like every basic male instinct I have to protect and provide is elevated when I’m around her.
Mira’s phone dings with a text and she jumps, pulling her hand back.
“Dammit, Zara.” She picks up the phone and reads a text. “It’s just my friend. She works at night and texts me because I’m up a lot working—oh, dammit.”
“What?”
“I didn’t upload the reels I made to my scheduling app.” She brings her hand to her head and rubs her forehead. “I need to do that now.”
“Go ahead.”
She nods and leans back. “I’m hungry. Are you hungry?”
“I’m always hungry,” I tell her honestly. “How well stocked is your kitchen?”
“I’d say it’s pretty good. I ordered groceries this morning.”
“I’ll make us something while you upload?”
Her lips pull into a smile. “Yeah. That would be nice. Thanks.”
She goes into her room to get her phone and Violet follows. Not wanting to make too much of a mess to clean up later, I just cut up some apple slices and arrange them around a blob of peanut butter. I look in nearly every single cabinet before I find a jar of honey and drizzle it on top. Mira is back in the living room, sitting cross-legged on the couch with both her phone and computer open in front of her.
I set the plate down on the coffee table and Mira tips her head.
“Did you put honey on the peanut butter? How did you know I like that?”
“You mentioned it to Enzo and I knew it was a Mira thing, not a Mya thing.”
Her brows furrow as she looks at the plate of apple slices. “It’s weird, ya know? You’ve listened to my conversations, hearing things that really weren’t meant for you.”
“If you didn’t want me to hear something, you shouldn’t have said it,” I try and regret my words right away. “I mean, I, uh, had to listen.”
“I know.” She picks up an apple and uses it to mix the honey in with the peanut butter. “It’s a little unfair, that’s all. You know more about me than I know about you.”
Smiling, I lean back. “What do you want to know?”
“What’s your favorite color?”
“Blue,” I tell her. “That’s easy.”
“Fine. Let’s dig deep. What religion would you raise your children?”
I let out a short laugh, then see that she’s serious. “Uh, well, we were raised as Christians so I guess just like that. I don’t go to church, but I pray sometimes.”
She nods. “Interesting. Do you want children?”