Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
He stayed all night.
And I hate him for it.
Why can’t he stay the arrogant asshole I’ve been calling him?
Why is he ever so slowly trying to wedge himself deeper in my heart and show me that I can rely on him?
CHAPTER 34
Dutton
Fuck. Sleeping in the car was not as comfortable as I’d hoped.
Posie steps out of the house, tightening the belt on her robe. She purposefully strides to the driver’s side of the car, and I open the door as she brushes a lock of messy hair from her face.
“I can see why you never stay the night; that bird’s nest you grow on your head overnight is atrocious,” I joke.
But she doesn’t take the bait. Instead, she says, “You stayed all night?”
“Did you not want me to?”
“I never asked that of you.”
“You don’t always have to ask for help, Posie. Sometimes, people simply know when you need it.”
She stares at me as if I’d just slapped her, so I reach out and grab her hand. She doesn’t look like she slept much, either. I feel guilty for putting her in this position. I didn’t realize her past weighed so heavily on her, and although patience is not a virtue I usually possess, I was willing to wait until she let me in a little more and trusted me. I’d fucked up by agreeing to Billie and Eli’s suggestion, and I feel like shit for it.
The front door opens, and her head whips in that direction. Bentley rubs his eyes and then runs over to us. She drops her hand from mine and holds her arms out for him. He jumps into her embrace and gives her a tired hug, still looking drowsy. I try not to smirk at the similarity between them, both clearly not being morning people.
That’s when he seems to notice me and asks, “Where is Dawson?”
“My father?” A pang of irritation runs through me at his question. How is it that this kid has only met my father once but still wants him more than me? I shouldn’t feel jealous of my father, but a small part of me does.
“Yeah, I like him,” he says, as if it’s obvious.
“It’s Sunday morning, so he’s probably with my mother.”
Bentley rubs his eyes again. “She’s nice too. Can we go see them?” he asks his mother.
“Probably not, sweetie.”
“Maybe we can see him at work after school tomorrow? He does go to school, doesn’t he?” I ask, realizing the kid might not even be in school yet. How old are they when they usually go?
“Yes! Can we?” he says, suddenly fully alert and ready for the day.
Posie glares at me. “Promising a kid something should be an offense.” Her eyes grow wide. “Oh shit. I forgot I was getting that delivered today.”
A van arrives, and I’m out of the car, following her to meet it.
“Calm down, it’s just a delivery driver,” she scolds as she puts Bentley down. “Do you want to go and pick out what cereal you’d like for breakfast while Mommy sorts out the new big bed?”
“Bed?” I ask.
“Yeah, I got a new frame. I completely forgot about it. Want to put it together for me?” The question comes out casually, so I’m not sure if she’s serious or not.
She greets the driver and signs for the bed. Two men lug large, heavy-looking boxes from the back of the truck and then carry them inside at her direction.
Put it together?
I’ve never fucking built a bed in my life.
“I’m kidding, pretty boy. I know you only play with knives,” she says, her fingers doing some woo-woo motion. “I don’t expect you to know how to use a screwdriver.”
“I can put together a bed,” I grumble. At least, I hope I can.
She arches an eyebrow. I can tell she’s considering it, but she’s hesitating because that would mean asking for help. But then a mischievous grin curves her lips.
“Okay, let’s see what you’re capable of.”
And I fucking devour that smile like it’s my reason to live. It’s the first time she’s willingly let me into her home. And I feel like, ever so slightly, Posie’s letting me into her life, too.
CHAPTER 35
Posie
“It would’ve been much easier if you just bought it prebuilt,” Dutton complains as he sits on the floor in my bedroom.
I lean against the doorframe, smirking as I hold two coffees.
“That would’ve cost extra money,” Bentley says and points to what looks like the instructions. “You just have to put it together like Lego.”
Bentley is sitting on his knees beside Dutton, picking up bolts and random pieces of the bed’s hardware. I bite my bottom lip and quietly place the coffees on the side table. I take a step back and pull out my phone.
“Posie, I think they sent you a broken bed,” Dutton says, barely controlling his frustration. “Are you listening to me?” He looks over his shoulder, and I take a picture.