Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 47381 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 237(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47381 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 237(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
“Um, buried in a cemetery.”
He blinked down at her.
“L-liver failure.”
“That’s why you blame yourself for things that aren’t your fault, isn’t it?” he said. Things were starting to make sense now.
“I don’t do that,” she said hastily.
“Baby, I’ve seen you do it,” he told her. “Not everything is your fault.”
“That’s what Addison tells me.” She let out a gasp. “Addie! Oh no! I’m the worst friend ever.”
She started coughing, and he picked her up, holding her against his chest so he could rub her back.
“Easy, baby. Calm down. You’re going to make your cough worse.” He patted her back as she gasped for breath.
“I forgot to text Addie! She’s going to be so worried about me,” she finally managed to say.
Brand carried her out to the living area and set her on the sofa. Then he filled up her sippy cup with water and got her phone for her.
“There’s my phone!” she cried as she reached for it.
He held out her sippy cup. “Drink first. Then you can have your phone. And, uh, I have something to tell you before you look at your phone.”
She gave him a suspicious look.
“I already spoke to your friend. She called, I answered, and I reassured her that you were all right and that I was taking care of you.”
What? Huh? How could… holy crap!
“Brand!”
He narrowed his eyes. At her tone or at her calling him by his name, she wasn’t sure.
“You can’t answer my phone! That’s a huge breach of privacy.”
“I didn’t want you to wake up, so I picked it up. Then I thought I better answer it. I was just going to take a message.”
“But you didn’t! You talked to my friend and then… did you hide my phone?”
He simply shrugged. “I was taking care of you. I didn’t want you to get stressed. I still don’t. I think we should put it away again.”
“Nuh-uh. Nope.” She stuck the phone down the front of her onesie.
Amusement filled his face. “You think that will deter me?”
She knew that it wouldn’t, but she still needed to make one thing clear. “I know that you were trying to look after me, but that was taking things too far.”
He frowned, looking slightly confused. Brand wasn’t used to people arguing with him. Everyone around him tended to do whatever he wanted. And he had been doing what he thought was best.
“What if Addie needed me? What if she was in trouble? Or one of the guys. I know you’re trying to protect me, but you can’t do that again. All right?”
He eyed her. “Fine. Unless it’s detrimental to your health or wellbeing, then I won’t answer your phone or take it from you.”
Yeah. She wasn’t sure if she’d won that argument or not.
Jolie took another sip of water as she turned her phone on. She tried to call Addie. It went to voicemail, so she left her a message. Then she answered a few texts she’d received, reassuring her band mates she was okay.
Feeling exhausted, she slumped back against the sofa. Brand lifted her, then sat back down with her on his lap.
“Are you mad at me?” he asked in a low voice.
“No.” She pressed her face against his chest. “I know you were doing what you thought was best. And that we’re both gonna make mistakes. That’s life. Mistakes happen. It’s what you learn from them that matters.”
“I’m always going to be an overprotective, possessive bastard. I don't think you can change that about me.”
She leaned back to look up at him. “I know. I don’t want to change you. But you know I’ve been looking after myself a long time.”
“Not very well,” he muttered.
“Hey!” She whacked her hand against his chest. “That’s not very nice.”
“But it’s true. I just want to look after you.”
“I know. I’m not… I’m not used to that. The guys and Addie look out for me. But you’re on a whole other level.”
“When I do something, I do it well.”
She smiled up at him. “You do. Just remember that I can make some decisions for myself.”
Brand sighed. “It’s difficult, but I’ll try. As long as you remember that not everything is your fault. Your mother’s death certainly wasn’t.”
“I’ll try,” she told him. “And some things are my fault. Like freaking out the other night.”
“You’ve burned yourself out working too hard. It’s no wonder you were panicking and not yourself.”
“The idea of picking up my guitar made me feel ill,” she admitted. “I was shaking and finding it hard to breathe. It felt like I was falling apart. My heart was racing. It was awful.”
“Fuck, baby. What can we do? Do you need to talk to someone? Slow down?” he asked.
“I was hoping that taking a break would help. That I might be able to slip into Little headspace and just relax. Instead, I’ve been ill this whole time. I don’t know.”