Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 62128 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 311(@200wpm)___ 249(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62128 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 311(@200wpm)___ 249(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
My heart does that flippy thing it does whenever he talks like that, and I shift off the couch, standing up to look down at him. “Only if I can record it first,” I tease.
His lips part, and his eyes fill with nothing but mischief. “Oh, you’re going to pay for that,” he says.
“Show me what you got, Stokehill,” I say playfully.
He leaps off the couch, and I squeal, running the opposite direction.
It’s only a matter of seconds before he catches me, my spine pressed tight against his chest.
“Got you,” he says. “Any last words before I drive you so wild you can’t speak?”
I spin in his embrace, smiling up at him. “I love you.”
He grins, bending down to kiss me. “I love you more,” he says.
I shake my head. “Does everything always have to be an argument with you?” I tease.
He hauls me up into his arms, carrying me to his bedroom. “Only because you make it so much fun.”
“So this is what our forever looks like?” I ask, my heart stretching wider than I think my chest can handle.
“Yep, think you can handle it?” he asks.
I reach up to kiss him. “Absolutely.”
EPILOGUE
PAXTON
I'm just about to settle in for the night when my phone buzzes in my pocket.
I shift on the couch, groaning at the idea of Nash, Lawson, or Baylor trying to convince me to come out tonight. They’ve all already tried. Twice.
Not only am I exhausted, I'm just so damn tired of running into Monroe and Liam everywhere we go.
As long as she's happy, it's fine.
I just don't have to subject myself to the torture of it.
I pull out my phone, my heart stuttering in my chest as I see Monroe’s name and picture pop up.
I hesitate, wondering if my friends have roped her into asking me to come out too.
Normally I’d never hesitate to answer her call, but things have been different lately. Strained.
I'd like to blame it on the fact that I simply don't like Liam because he's a douchebag who has somehow convinced her he's a nice guy, but it's more than that.
It's always been more than that.
I swipe to answer the call, knowing damn well I’ll never ignore her.
“Hello?” I answer, clearing my throat of any strain that might be present.
Loud music blares in the background, and I press my phone harder to my ear like it’ll help me hear better.
“Paxton,” Monroe says my name on a panicked breath.
That quickly, I'm up, shoving my feet into shoes and grabbing my keys.
“Where are you?” I ask, adrenaline flooding my veins as I head out of my house, barely remembering to lock the door on my way out before I’m in my car.
She's crying.
I swear I'm going to fucking kill him if he hurt her.
“He drove me into the city for this festival thing and he left me here,” she says, her tone drenched in tears, her breathing shallow.
“Fuck.” I grip my steering wheel so tight my fingers ache, shifting the call to speaker and drawing up her location.
We've always shared our locations since we've had the ability, and I’ve never been so grateful for that as I am now. My phone’s GPS locks on to her, and I take the route faster than is probably safe.
“I'm on my way,” I say, doing my best to keep the anger I feel out of my tone.
It's all for him, and nothing for her.
Goddamn him, he has no idea what he's just done.
“Monroe,” I say firmly. “I need you to breathe for me, okay? I'm going to stay on the phone with you the whole time. You’re not alone, do you hear me?”
“I hear you,” she says. “I'm trying. But there are so many people here, Pax.” She lets out another panicked little cry. “I don't know anyone here. I'm so sorry I had to call you—”
“Never apologize,” I cut her off. “You need me and I'm there. Always.”
That has never and will never change.
I've known Monroe since we were kids, our families close friends.
Which is why I know that being abandoned in public places is a huge trigger for her. It causes all variations of panic attacks.
Once, when we were ten and on a vacation in Greece with our families, Monroe got separated from us in the market. It’d been packed. One second, she was there, the next she wasn’t. It took us over two hours to find her, and by the time we got to her, she’d been so traumatized by it that it stuck with her forever.
I’ve never let her out of my sight again when we’re out together.
And this asshole just left her.
“Breathe for me, Monroe,” I say again when I hear her breaths coming in shallow gasps. “Just close your eyes and breathe. Is there a place you can get away from the crowd? A front entrance, a reception desk, anything?”